Still Breathing
by morgana-avalon
Summary: Set right at the ending of the movie the Winter Soldier. Natasha handed Steve the files on Bucky Barnes and they are going after him. No real spoilers for Civil War as this takes off in a different direction. Also, this story originally had some explicite love scenes. In order to post the story here, I have to delete them, so the story might take odd breaks at time.
1. Chapter 1

Notes

Please read carefully or the story will make no sense.

1\. This story is set right after The Winter Soldier. Natasha hands Steve the report on Bucky and Steve and Sam start their search. They find Bucky in Bucharest. At this point, Zemo hasn't framed Bucky yet. So the attack on T'Challa and his father hasn't happened yet.

2\. Steve left in search of Bucky before the Accords happened. Steve has no idea what's happening as he's off searching for Bucky in Romania. Wanda is under house arrest and you can fill in the rest.

3\. I never agreed with Bucky getting that bulky in Civil War. I would expect him to struggle to stay alive. Instead of gaining weight, I would expect Bucky to lose some body weight. So in this story, he's a lot like he was in The Winter Soldier, minus a few pounds…

4\. I hope everything make sense to you. I'm not going to follow the Civil War plot line. I'm going in a different direction. Zemo will happen, the attack on T'challa and his father will happen, but I'm not sure Civil War will with Team Cap and Team Iron Man. Please keep this in mind.

5 I posted the first 3 chapters before, but then took them down because I lacked the motivation and inspiration to continue writing the story. Since I finished it today, I'm putting it back up. Also, I have to delete 2 explicite love scenes in order to be able to post the story here. That means the story will seem fractured, because you are missing those 2 scenes.

Title: Still Breathing

Author: Morgana  
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes  
Rating: old-fashioned R as far as I'm concerned.  
Summary: Set right at the ending of the movie the Winter Soldier. Natasha handed Steve the files on Bucky Barnes and they are going after him. No real spoilers for Civil War as this takes off in a different direction.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm not making any money out of these stories! The characters belong to Marvel.  
Warnings: I'm not a native speaker of English, so don't expect perfection.  
Not beta read and all mistakes are mine.

Positive feedback is always welcome. Do be gentle though, I'm only human and make mistakes/typos

Part 1

Soft whimpers, painful and pleading, pull me from my thoughts and force me to focus on the present instead of dwelling on the past. I often lose myself in nightmarish daydreams, especially when old memories of Zola resurface.

That's when my ordeal began and it hasn't ended yet. At times, I wonder if postponing the inevitable only makes it more painful. Maybe I should have returned to my handlers after saving Steve from that lake, but I didn't, and now there's no way back for me. Hydra never forgives and killing me on the spot would be considered a mercy, which I don't deserve. They would make me suffer for the rest of my life.

The alternative is taking my own life, but my very being rebels against that thought. These last few decades Hydra dictated my every move and I want to live again. Don't I deserve some time on my own, trying to heal – as much as I can – and to enjoy some months of freedom?

I doubt I will last long; either Hydra or Shield will find and capture me. It's just a matter of time. I blink and then look about, wondering where the whining is coming from. "Hello, boy, you look hungry." It's a black dog, probably a black Shepherd, but I'm no expert, so I could be wrong. He looks emaciated and misses his left eye. Part of his left ear has been cut away and looks mutilated.

A lot of Romanians strongly dislike black dogs. It has to do with some stupid superstition; people think that they have the devil inside them. This one looks in dire need of help, and if he doesn't get it, he'll be dead soon. There are a lot of so called vigilantes that 'specialize' in killing black, stray dogs. I'm not one of them. I always liked dogs – as far as I can remember, that is. "Come on, come here."

I spot two bulky guys, carrying brass knuckles and they're eying the dog with great interest. If I turn him away, they will use him as they new punching bag. I'm not going to allow that. "Come here, don't be scared." As long as those two guys think the dog belongs to me, they might leave in search of a new victim. I hope they'll give up and go away.

Should they attack, I can't stop them, for that would draw attention to my person and it's imperative that I fade into the background. Thankfully the dog is willing to trust me and lies down, resting his big head on my left foot. He seems gullible, which is remarkable, considering the things he must have been through. Those injuries, badly healed, didn't happen by accident. Some bully got to him.

I scan my surroundings and am relieved to find that a lot of people are visiting the park today. As long as it's busy, those two guys won't make a move. The dog whimpers again and looks at me with his remaining eye. "I know you're hungry, but I don't have any food on me." All I can offer him right now is protection.

Making sure the two bullies don't notice it, I check them out. I can easily take them, but the last thing I need is the police to come looking for me. I reach for the dog using my left hand, just in case he bites, and manage to pat his head. He closes his eye and seems to relax. "That's a good boy…"

Good, those goons are leaving; their patience probably wore thin. I watch them exit the park and mentally make a note to leave by the opposite exit. I don't want to risk them waiting for me and ambushing me.

The dog raises his head and whines softly. Looks like I'm stuck with him as he doesn't seem inclined to leave any time soon. Ending up with a pet was never my intention, but I can't turn him away. Strays never survive on the streets. So what do I do? Dog food, a leash, and a collar are top priorities right now. I'll take him home, feed him, and check on additional injuries. I have no idea what I'll do after that.

0000

The dog needs a name. He's curiously sniffing his way through my apartment and then returns to me, tail wagging happily. He's glad to be off the streets, I imagine. It was the same for me when I finally landed this apartment.

I never expected the manager to hire me as his handyman, but I had seen the advert and the job came with free housing, so I applied. It's easy work; declogging drains, switching light bolts; all those little things a lot of people nowadays seems incapable of. Maybe they should put down their mobile phones and pay attention to the world around them?

I open the can with dog food, move the goo into a bowl, and put it in front of him. I expect the dog to attack the food, but instead he looks at me and seems to wait for something. I'm painfully reminded of behavior I displayed myself not so long ago. I needed my handler's permission to eat. Doing so without his explicit consent meant getting punished.

"Go ahead, it's yours. You can eat." My voice sounds rough and unused, which isn't surprising as I hardly talk to anyone, the only exceptions being the manager and the tenants. "I do hope you don't bark much…" If the tenants complain, the manager will demand I get rid of the dog.

While he eats, he keeps glancing at me every so often. Not because he doesn't trust me, but because I might take the food away from him. I'm not moving though. I enjoy having a companion, even if it's just a dog and probably only temporary. Maybe he'll take off tomorrow. I won't stop him if he wants to leave. I know what it's like to be kept on a tight leash.

"You need a name." I can't keep referring to him as the dog. "Actually you remind me of Frenchie…" It seems like a good name and it might be nice to remember my former friend that way. "Frenchie…" I say, testing the name. He gives me an attentive look and wags his tall. Well, that settles it. If he likes it, he's stuck with it. I'm not calling him Steve or Stevie, although that thought also occurred to me. I'm not going to torment myself that way; that wouldn't mean comfort, it would be hell.

I wait for him to finish his food and water and then call him over to my side. "Frenchie, come here, boy." Still wagging his tail, he makes his way over to me, and puts that big head of his on my right knee. "I hope you don't drool." I reach for the collar that I bought along with the dog food, and fasten it around his neck, making sure it isn't too tight. I wrote my address on the collar, asking people to return the dog in case he runs off. Hopefully that will keep him safe. The fact that a black dog has an owner might make the difference between him getting killed and staying alive. Frenchie doesn't seem to mind the collar and simply looks at me. I have the sneaky suspicion that he was someone's pet once. He's entirely too well behaved for a stray.

I pat him and he lies down on the floor, eyes closing and drifting off into sleep. That probably was his first decent meal in weeks. I know what it feels like; I've been there, done that, and remember what it felt like when I moved into this apartment. It isn't much, I know that, but for now it's home – a shelter – a place to hide from the people looking for me, Hydra and Shield mostly. I highly doubt Steve is looking for me. I'm not the man I used to be and Steve must know that. Nothing good can come out of such a meeting. I hope Steve already forgot about me.

I get to my feet, walk over to the wobbly desk, and put my newest journal in front of me. After picking up a pen, I open the journal and stare at the blank page for a while. I'm not sure I can write right now. I managed to avoid thinking about Steve for a long time, but tonight he seems close – his ghost, that is. I put down the pen, afraid it's going to be one of those nights where the past will haunt me. I can't possibly write right now; committing those words to paper makes them even more real.

In the end, I head for the worn couch and sit down. I remove my jacket, boots and glove, which I always wear in public to hide my bionic arm. I'm grateful it's still functioning; I dread the day when it breaks down, as there is no one around to fix it.

I lie down, as much as the small couch allows me to, and close my eyes, which is definitely a mistake, because Pierce suddenly stares back at me. I stare at the ceiling instead and manage to ignore the tremors that start in my right hand. The trembling then moves up my arm, and in an attempt to stop it, I move onto my right side and wrap my arms around my waist. I know it's futile though; sometimes the past is too strong and my mind too weak to handle those memories. Tonight is going to be bad…

Suddenly there's something wet against my face. Frenchie made his way over to me and is now licking my face, probably craving the salt on my skin. He puts his front paws on the couch and tries to climb aboard. The couch isn't big enough for that though.

"You're a good boy," I tell him and smile when he manages to jump onto the couch after all. He curls up next to me and puts his head on my left arm, just staring at me. I wrap my right arm around him and am incredibly relieved that I'm no longer alone.

0000

Having to walk Frenchie before turning in for the night is a novel experience. Normally I barricade myself in the apartment and only leave it when I absolutely have to. I'm hardly ever outside when it's dark. I no longer like nights. It's too easy for potential attackers to lure me into an ambush.

But I have no choice; Frenchie has to go. I attach the leash to the collar and walk out of the door. Frenchie is extremely well behaved; he doesn't pull and stays right next to me. He does what he has to do and seems relaxed, even around other dogs. It's beyond me why anyone would ditch a pet like that, but then again, maybe the owner had no choice. You never know what dictates someone's life choices, just look at me.

Once we're back at the apartment I remove the collar and the leash and Frenchie heads straight for the bed, or what I call my bed these days. It's just a mattress on the floor, but I'm not complaining. It's luxury as far as I'm concerned. I recall nights spent on cold concrete floors, moving trucks, on top of buildings, damp cellars, and even in a grave in a graveyard. I recall too much anyway.

I make quick work of brushing my teeth and strip down to my boxers. It took me three months to get to the point where I was comfortable taking my boots off for the night. Then it took me two more months to go to sleep without my clothes on. I always wanted to be ready in case Hydra or Shield found me, so I remained dressed.

The old uniform, belonging to the Winter Soldier, is still stuffed away beneath the floor boards, along with the rest of my journals. I considered throwing the outfit away, but what if someone finds it and alerts Hydra? No, it is safest to just store it.

I lie down, pull the blankets up to my shoulders, and get ready to settle down for another restless and probably nightmare infested night. Something is different though; Frenchie hesitantly makes his way onto the mattress and curls up next to me, still respectfully keeping his distance though.

I turn onto my side, pull my knees up to my chest, and tuck the blankets around me. It's cold in the apartment and I don't make enough money to put on the heating. I've been through worse though and the cold is no real problem for me. It might be different for the dog though.

"Are you okay?" I move one of the blankets in such a way that it covers Frenchie too. This time I'm greeted by a sigh and not pitiful whining. Frenchie seems to be just fine. I pat him for some minutes, but then I drift off into sleep; the dog's presence helps me relax.

0000

"I'll be with you… till the end of the line…"

I startle awake. My breathing is much too fast and I'm covered in cold sweat. I kept hitting Steve, and this time, I didn't stop. This time, I cracked his skull and he died. I fucking killed him! My left hand turns into a fist and… A wet tongue suddenly swipes across my face and soft barking pulls me from my nightmare. Why is there a dog in here with me?

He stops barking the moment I make eye contact and Frenchie puts his front paws on my shoulders, still licking at the tears and thus the salt from my face. "Frenchie…" I remember now. I remember taking him home and looking after him. It looks like he's taking care of me in turn. I lean back against the wall and fight hard to pull back the frayed edges of my mind. This isn't the first night I feel like I'm going insane and it won't be the last either.

Frenchie finally settles down and curls up in my lap. I hardly realize I'm back to patting him and rubbing behind his ears. Frenchie seems to enjoy the attention and I'm relieved his presence pulled me from my nightmare before things got bad. It wouldn't be the first time that Steve's corpse came back to haunt me, telling me that everything is my fault, and that I should get it over with and just fucking kill myself.

"Good dog, Frenchie. You're a good dog." I keep repeating it, mainly in order to soothe myself. It feels so good to have someone with me, even if it's just a dog. There's no freaking way I can go back to sleep tonight. I'm not going to write this down either, because I already penned it down too many times in the past. Putting it in my journal only worsens the pain.

The truth is that my programming pushed me to kill Steve. When Steve broke my arm and dislocated my shoulder, the pain snapped me from the Hydra induced trance I had been in. Memories started to float into my mind, but they made no sense as I didn't know who Steve was. I only fully remembered him towards the end when I had beaten him so badly that he finally stayed down, bleeding from multiple wounds and my cheap shots to his head. I recognized him because seeing him like that propelled me back to our childhood.

Bullies used to beat him up in back alleys and they would still be taking shots at him by the time I would crash onto the scene and chase them off. I would haul Stevie back to his feet, make sure he got home so his mum, Sarah, could lecture him and take care of his injuries. She always lectured me too for arriving too late. Keeping Stevie safe was a fulltime job all together.

This time, I was the bully beating him, shooting him, and almost killing him. I shot him time and time again, and yet he never actively went after me. In the end, he even dropped his shield and stopped defending himself. He did all that just to get through to me, but with Hydra's conditioning still hampering my memories, I had no idea what he wanted from me.

Only towards the end, when he was once more the scrawny kid getting his ass kicked, did I recognize him, and by then it was too late for me to make amends. I had wrecked too much havoc, had done too much damage to be forgiven. That explosion delayed any decisions I had to make. It took down the helicarrier, and while watching Steve plummet to his death, I made my decision at long last. I had to get him into safety and so I dove after him and pulled him from the water.

I never considered staying with him. There was only one way for me to go and that was to disappear from sight, from his very life. I can never face him again, not after the horrible things I did. It's best this way – it's best for both of us. Steve gets to live the life he always dreamed of: that of being the hero and saving the damsel, or in this case, the world, in distress. That's what he always wanted; that's what he was meant to do. I have no place in it. The best thing I can do is to hide from the world and hope no one ever finds me. I just want to live out my life in peace.

0000

I don't go back to sleep after that episode. Instead, I remain awake, listening to all the odd sounds a building as old as this one makes. During this time of the year, the sun rises late and I'm grateful that its warm rays finally drive away the cold sting of night.

Frenchie wakes up and stretches. He gets to his feet, walks over to his water bowl, and looks at me because there's no food yet. It's good to have a reason to get up in the morning. I make my way into the kitchen, get some dog food, and put it in his bowl. I watch him eat, and realize I should have some food myself. I grab a protein bar, as I lack funds for any extensive grocery shopping. I'll ration the food I have left now that I need to buy more dog food for Frenchie; I don't want him to go hungry.

Once he's done eating, he heads toward the doorway, where I put his collar and leash. He picks it up and carries it over to me, dropping it right in front of my feet. "You know what you want, don't you?" The way his tail wags is kind of funny and it makes me laugh. "You need to give me a moment to get dressed first." It finally happened; I'm losing my mind, talking to a dog like that, but I have the uncanny feelings he knows what I'm saying.

I make quick work of getting dressed and head outside with Frenchie, who although he's very eager, doesn't pull, and neatly waits for me. In this park, there is a small clearing where dogs are allowed off leash and several early risers are playing fetch with their pets. I didn't bring a ball, as I don't own one, but maybe a small branch will also do? I remove the leash and wait for Frenchie to make up his mind. If he wants to take off and regain his freedom, this is the moment.

Frenchie, however, is more interested in me throwing the stick than in running away from me. I guess this probably means that he's okay with staying with me. I throw the stick – not too far, as I don't want anyone to wonder about my strength – and Frenchie is delighted to return it to me. He drops it at my feet and looks at me, expecting more of the same, so I indulge him.

We play fetch until he's exhausted and lies down, panting hard, but looking happy. "Sorry, boy, but I need to get back. I still have some chores lined up." The tenants always manage to break something in their apartments; most of the time their problems are easily fixed. "We can come back later." I mentally chide myself for talking to him; I don't want to come across as mad, but looking about, I realize most pet owners are talking to their dog. Maybe it's not that bad and I'm not losing it.

0000

The old, grey-haired lady in apartment 4 C gave me some extra money for repairing her washing machine, which was leaking water and had stopped working. I'll use the money to buy more dog food.

Opening the door to my apartment I'm thrilled that Frenchie is already waiting me. He doesn't jump me, like I've seen other dogs do, he simply waits for me to sit down and pat him. "You probably want to go for another walk, don't you?"

The vertigo hits me unexpectedly. Normally there are some telltale signs that warn me about an upcoming episode. This time it hits me hard and unprepared. My head hurts and a blinding pain moves out from behind my eyes, which I close at once. "No," I whisper, and do my best to hang on to my sanity. "Please, don't…" Every now and then, and without any time table I have been able to make out so far, it's like I'm back in Hydra's machine. Instead of them wiping my mind, memories flood my brain instead, and it all comes rushing back.

It's sensory overload, something my already shattered mind finds hard to deal with. Helplessly I let it wash over me and try to ride it out. From past experience I know that only a few new memories will remain behind. Most of them bury themselves too deeply for me to find them again. They'll resurface the next time.

Frenchie squeals and I try to reassure him, but I have a hard time dealing with the pain I'm in. This is something I can't control and it scares the hell out of me. My hands start shaking and my body convulses as if some electric current is running through it. It's not… My body merely remembers the pain it was in when Hydra turned on their damned machine.

Several minutes later, the pain lessens, the tremors calm down, and my splitting headache changes to mere throbbing. I made it through another episode, thank God. I hold onto Frenchie, hoping I'm not crushing the poor dog, but he doesn't struggle and merely presses his body against me, obviously trying to sooth me. Good dog… He really is a good dog.

Slowly, I lower myself onto the floor until I'm lying down. I learned the hard way that getting up isn't an option yet. It usually takes around an hour for my body to recover from such an attack, yes, an attack, because that's what if feels like. I dread the day that this will happen while I'm in public. People will call the police, or if I'm lucky, an ambulance. In either case, it won't take Hydra, or Shield, long to find me. When that happens, my freedom is forfeit.

I focus on my breathing and close my eyes, trying to get rid of the nausea and vertigo. This time it was really bad and I can't help but wonder, no fear, what particular memories will surface during the next few days. I might run out on notebooks this way. Fuck, I was so sure I remembered most of the hits Hydra had me carry out, but it looks like there is more. Who else did I murder and why can't it stop? I'm not sure how much more I can take!

0000

An hour later I feel confident enough to get to my feet and move into the kitchen to get some water. Frenchie is still beside me, eyeing me worryingly. I never realized dogs care that much. I fill his water bowl and wish I had some treats to feed him. I still need to head to the supermarket. I'm not sure I can manage though; maybe I have to wait until later this evening. I need to rest first.

I drag myself over to my bed and lie down. Frenchie snuggles up to me and rests his head on my chest as if he's determined to watch over me, and it makes me smile. "I'll be fine. You'll see. I just need to rest a bit."

Please, don't let me fall asleep. In the past, the nightmares were especially bad after experiencing such an episode. Therefore I keep my eyes open and stare at the ceiling like I did so many nights before. This isn't living; I'm not sure what to call it. It's better than Hydra torturing me though.

When I was young I didn't know about Hydra and the Red Skull, but that changed after Zola got his dirty hands on me. I hit the ground hard and tried to catch my fall by landing on my left arm, but all that accomplished was ripping it off. When Hydra found me, I was nothing but an incoherent mess, in pain, and barely hanging onto consciousness. When I woke up after surgery and realized they had replaced my arm with their evil invention, I went mad. I strangled one of their leading scientists, but then Zola put me on ice. I never had a chance to truly understand what they did to me.

Maybe I still hoped that Steve would find me again and get me away from that hell. Steve got me out that first time. I barely recognized him after his transformation, but it didn't take me long to realize that, although his body had changed, he was still the same kid I got into trouble with when we lived in Brooklyn. His top priority was to get me out and into safety.

It was the same when we fought on that helicarrier. I just didn't realize it at that time. He wanted me to remember him and to get me away from Hydra, but I didn't understand until it was too late.

Suddenly new memories appear and they take me back in time, showing me how I took up position on the opposite rooftop of Steve's apartment. Hydra had ordered Fury's death and I was to execute that order. I already had a clear shot at Fury before Steve entered his apartment, but then I got curious and locked in on him instead. Even back then, I momentarily froze because I recognized him – sort of recognized him. I didn't know him, as Hydra hadn't given me any intel on Steve, but I still knew him – somehow. But then the conditioning kicked back in and forced me to focus on Fury again. I pulled the trigger and fired. Once I knew I had hit my target, my orders were to leave the scene, but then Steve came after me.

When he threw his shield at me, I caught it with ease. At that time, I didn't question my ability to handle it that effortlessly. Only now, looking back at it with most of my memories intact, I realize I handled it before. In between fighting the Nazis and Hydra, Steve and I would train and I learned to use that shield in battle. He never prepared me for the backlash that hit me on that train though, but I wouldn't change a thing, even knowing it got me killed in the end.

Steve was down and needed me to watch his back, so I picked up his shield and did my best protecting him, giving him a chance to catch his breath so he could take out the bad guys. I'm a realistic kind of guy. I had long realized that Steve was extremely powerful due to Erskine's serum and I accepted that. I never felt jealous or wished Erskine had picked me instead to become Captain America. I would have been the wrong person anyway. I could never have taken on that role. Steve IS Captain America, I know that. I realized that after watching him battle Hydra time and time again.

I always suspected that my need to protect Steve would get me killed and I was okay with that. You lay down your life for the person you love. There was never any question of me putting Steve first – never.

Frenchie buries his – rather wet – nose against my neck and his warm breath pulls me back me away from my musings. Taking him home with me and adopting him was the best thing I ever did. He helps me to stay sane – somewhat. I have no illusions about my current state of mind. I'm mad as hell.

"You want to go outside, don't you?" A quick look at the clock tells me it's evening already. I spend most of the day battling ghosts from the past. At least this time, I came out of it fairly unharmed. There were times that I ended up a drooling mess and needed several days to recover. "Maybe we can make a quick trip to the supermarket and get you some food." I don't have any food left in here. I'll have to go slow and I need to be careful in case I grow light-headed again.

0000

I pay for the dog food and put the cans into a shopping bag. I also bought some canned spaghetti as I need to eat something warm. I'm exhausted and I already lost a lot of weight these last few months. But when money is tight, one of the things you cut back on is food. Tonight however, I need to eat or my body will deteriorate further.

On my way home, I head for the park, giving Frenchie a chance to unwind and explore. I settle down on a bench and try to fight down the upcoming headache. I knew it would make a comeback; it always does after such an episode. Unfortunately the over the counter pain medication doesn't work, so I just have to bear it.

"Can I pat your dog, sir?"

Blinking and trying to focus my somewhat blurred vision, I realize there are two children to my right. The girls look like twins as they closely resemble each other. I'm guessing they're about eight or nine and they keenly eye Frenchie, who is already moving toward them, hoping for some attention. I trust the dog and nod, a decision which I immediately regret. Moving my head is not a good idea. "Yes, you can." I hope the dog is not a kid magnet. The last thing I need is him drawing attention to me.

They take turns patting him, and Frenchie, the show-off, rolls onto his back so they rub his stomach. The twins squeal with happiness, which only worsens my headache. Their mother notices and tells the children to move on – not before addressing me though.

"Thank you… Our landlord doesn't allow pets, so you just made their day."

"You're welcome," I whisper, relieved to see them moving on. The headache is getting worse and I'm grateful I'm already sitting down. I just have to wait it out. There's not much I can do about it.

"Bucky, what's wrong?"

I don't register the voice at first, as I'm lost within my own mind, but then, I hear it again.

"Bucky, how can I help?"

The voice doesn't belong here and is probably just a figment of my imagination, fed by the returning nightmares and maybe wishful thinking. Steve isn't here. He can't be.

"Bucky, you're worrying me. Can you tell me what's happening?"

I gather my remaining strength and open my eyes. The dark of the night is thankfully soothing; I wouldn't have been able to tolerate any sunlight.

"Yeah, that's it. Look at me, Buck. Do you want me to get you to a hospital?"

"No!" The headache intensifies. I need to lie down and relax. I can't deal with any additional stress at the moment. Why is this vision haunting me? Why is my mind playing this cruel trick at me? "Go away…"

"I can't do that. I just found you and I'm not leaving. Buck, tell me what to do."

I finally lost it. I always knew that the moment would come; I lost my ability to distinguish between reality and my nightmares. It feels like Hydra finally got to me anyways. "You're not real…" I need to hold on to that. I need to remember that Steve isn't real. He can't possibly be in Bucharest. I don't want him here!

"Should I take you back to your apartment then?"

My apartment? Yes, that sounds good. I can hide there and Hydra won't find me. Yes, I need to go back home. I attempt to get to my feet, but I sway and grab onto the next best thing, which happens to be… a solid body? I stare at Steve in shock. No, this can't be happening. He can't be here! He can't have found me!

"Let's get your dog too… What's his name?"

This is just a hallucination. I'm probably in my bed, having a nightmare the returning memories brought on. This isn't real. None of this is happening.

"Hey, what's his name?"

"Frenchie," I say, unable to stop myself from answering Steve. He sounds so incredibly real. He FEELS even more real!

"Frenchie… You remember him?"

Steve sounds pleased, but I push that realization away. None of this is real. It's not happening. This is just another dream and the moment I wake up, Steve will be gone. This isn't real… I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

0000

"I need a key or do you prefer me to break down your front door?"

A key? Who is talking and what is going on? My mind drifted back to the past and I was sitting at a bar, having a beer with Steve. He has the hots for Peggy, but is too shy to make a move, the idiot. Maybe I'll play matchmaker. I don't mind.

"Bucky, where's your key? Which pocket?"

"Coat, right hand pocket…" I automatically reply. It's ingrained on me to help Stevie. Why isn't the fucking migraine going away? Sure, in the past, these episodes lasted long, sometimes even twenty-four hours, but they were seldom this intense. I never imagined Steve being back in my life, and even less conceiving him as a solid presence. Maybe I'm remembering something and it feels too real? Who knows? I certainly don't.

Suddenly I hit the mattress, which is soft and welcoming. I curl up on my side and Frenchie settles down in my arms. I made it home. Somehow, I made it back to my apartment, or wait, I never left, did I? This is just a dream; not quite a nightmare, an illusion at best. Fuck it; I'm too tired to think about this. I close my eyes and my body gives into the bone-weary exhaustion that has been dragging me down these last few days. I wish someone would put a gun to my head, pull the trigger, and blow out my brains. Then I might feel peace again.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

I stand back and watch the dog cuddle up to Bucky. I'm relieved that he has some company even though it's only a canine.

Our first meeting didn't go as planned. I had no idea he wasn't feeling well until he started to slump over to one side. Originally I planned on sitting down next to him and starting up a conversation about the dog, as I wasn't sure he knew who I was. That day on the helicarrier he seemed confused like hell and I wanted to find out how he was doing first before confronting him with the fact that he walked out on me.

That plan went to hell. Instead, I had to steady him and get him home. Had it been up to me, I would have taken him to a hospital so they could check on him. He looks bad. He lost weight and there are dark circles beneath his eyes. He is as pale as a ghost. I don't like it one bit, but as Bucky wanted to return the apartment, I'll respect that. I don't want to force him into anything. Hydra did that for decades and I'm not taking over making his decisions for him.

I cover Bucky with the blankets and watch him for another moment. The dog seems relaxed and I reckon that means Bucky is peacefully asleep for now. The real Frenchie would have a fit if he knew Bucky had named his dog after him. Then they would have gone drinking and be best friends again afterwards. That's how we handled things back in the days.

"Try to get some rest." I smooth away some wayward hair from his face. Damn, he looks exhausted.

Satisfied that Bucky is resting, I take in the apartment. I was tempted to check it out while Bucky was out, but I decided against it. Bucky would have noticed things out of place, would have realized someone had invaded his privacy, and it would have caused him to run. I didn't want that. Tracking him to Bucharest was difficult and we only managed thanks to one of Natasha's contacts. If Bucky feels safe here, I'll do anything within my power to keep it that way.

I move into the small kitchen unit and eye the empty cupboards. A quick check tells me that the fridge is equally empty. Money seems to be tight these days, which explains why he only bought dog food and canned spaghetti. That might also be the reason why he lost weight. That problem is easily fixed though. I'll get some groceries and stock up on provisions.

The apartment itself has known better days and looks neglected, but it is clean and tidy. It reminds me of Bucky's old apartment in Brooklyn. He got his own place at eighteen and worked two jobs to pay for it. I spent a lot of time at his place, feeling at ease and welcome there. He always picked up after me. I must admit that I have always been sloppy and lazy when it comes down to household chores. That hasn't changed since then.

I finish my little inspection and move a kitchen chair toward the mattress. I straddle the chair and study Bucky. I can't believe we found him. We have been looking for him nonstop for six months now. I even turned down missions because I wanted to find him first. Fury understood to a certain degree. In the end, he stopped asking me, because he already knew what my answer was going to be; finding Bucky came first.

The three of us - Nat, Sam, and I – had a hard time getting any leads on Buck. At first, I thought I would find him in the States, but then we realized he had left the country. He got hired onto a freighter which took him to Europe. I have no idea why he decided to settle down in Bucharest, and if one of Nat's contacts hadn't recognized him, we would still be searching for him.

When we first got word that Bucky had been seen in Bucharest I couldn't wait to get there. Nat pulled some strings and the three of us flew undetected into the country. Nat and Sam are currently staying at a nearby hotel, waiting, in case I need help and I think I'll give them a call later.

I don't know what I expected to find in Bucharest. I had no idea if Bucky had regained his memories. I didn't know how he would react upon seeing me, so when he turned out to be ill upon our first meeting, it was an anticlimax. I had prepared myself for a discussion, maybe even a shouting match, but instead, I ended up dragging him home.

"I'm staying," I tell him, even though he can't hear me. "You won't give me the slip a second time. I'll be watching you." To some degree I understand why he left me on that shore. I might have run too if I had been in his shoes, but still… Seeing him walk away hurt.

Bucky's bionic arm suddenly comes alive, tightening its segments, and his hand turns into a fist. His sleep becomes restless and he's mumbling. Frenchie rests his head on Bucky's left shoulder and gives me an odd look. Only then do I realize that the dog misses an eye.

What do I do? I imagined every possible scenario in my mind before – several times actually - but now that the time has come to step up and comfort him, I feel... shy, I guess. I move onto the mattress and carefully pull Bucky against me, making sure his head rests against my thigh. My fingers find their way into his hair and I gently massage his scalp, recalling it helped him calm down whenever he had a nightmare in the past.

Those nightmares were at their worst right after I got him out of Hydra's camp. I never found out exactly what Zola did to him and Bucky seemed unable to remember or unwilling to talk about it. He only hinted that he had been in pain and that he had felt disorientated when I found him. He had a hard time recognizing me and I doubt it was all due to Erskine's serum transforming me. It went deeper than that. Sometimes I felt like part of his soul was missing and I held on even tighter during those nights when he screamed himself hoarse in his sleep. Maybe one day he will tell me what Zola did to him.

Apparently holding him still works, as he calms and settles down again. "I'm not leaving," I vow. "I'm staying. You'll probably do your worst to push me away, but I won't give in. I'm staying. You're stuck with me!" Frenchie gives me a soulful look and laps at my hand. I smile at him and briefly pat him. It's time I got my act together and took charge.

I uncover my phone and call Nat. Both of them will doubtlessly be waiting to hear for me. I'm surprised they didn't call yet.

"Steve, it's about time! I was about to give you a call instead. We watched you move Barnes back to the apartment. What's wrong with him?"

Nat sounds worried and I love her for it. Expressing her feelings around me is still something she's working on. It helps that we trust each other unconditionally these days, ever since I saved her from that missile attack Zola ordered.

Recalling the info in the reports Nat got her hands on, I take an educated guess. "Hydra's mind wipes are still catching up with him. He might be suffering from violent flashbacks. He lost weight and looks like death warmed over. He needs rest, food, and time to recover."

"Maybe we should call in Helen Cho? Or do you want to move Barnes to the Stark Tower?"

"That's a negative, Nat. Buck made his home here. The last thing I want is to force him to abandon this place. That needs to be his decision and I'm not making it for him." I would love for a physician to check him over, but I doubt Bucky will agree to it, not yet. "Just give me some time to get through to him."

"Fine," Natasha whispers, but the tone of her voice indicates that she doesn't like it at all. "Anything Sam and I can do to help?"

"Yeah, grocery shopping. Bucky doesn't have any food here, except for some dog food and canned spaghetti. Buy some basic foods, nothing fancy. We don't want to overwhelm him. You know things like, bread, cheese, butter, milk, some hot meals and coffee… I'm going to need lots of coffee."

"Sure, we can do that," she sounds pleased that she can help.

"Leave it in front of the door. I don't want him waking up and finding you here. I have the feeling he'll have a hard time accepting I'm here in the first place. He didn't act like he was happy to see me."

"I understand that," Nat offers. "He left you on that shore for a reason. When he realized what he had done… Such feelings can be overwhelming. He isn't just hiding from Hydra; he's hiding from you too."

"I know that." And I worry about it. I have no idea how Bucky will react when he finally realizes that I found him. "Oh, and add more dog food. Bucky only bought three cans and I doubt it will last long."

"Sure, we'll include dog treats as well."

In the back I hear Sam question Nat's last comment and it makes me smile. I'm grateful to have friends like them, who back me up no matter what.

0000

There's some noise outside and I reckon Nat and Sam showed up with the groceries. I wait for them to leave, as I don't want to risk Bucky waking up to their presence. Once I'm certain that they are gone, I lower Bucky back onto the mattress and cover him with the blankets. Frenchie shifts and then moves closer to him.

Opening the door I find that the two of them went overboard. I count six huge bags filled with groceries. I start hauling them inside and carry them into the kitchen. I tackle one bag after another and slowly the cupboards are getting stuffed, and so is the fridge.

They even added dog treats and some toys. I suspect it's Sam who likes dogs, as I know Nat prefers cats. I put those away for now, as I don't want Bucky to wake up because Frenchie is playing with a squeaky toy. After checking out the coffee maker and finding it works just fine, I decide to make myself some coffee. Caffeine doesn't really work for me, but I love the smell and taste of coffee.

I have no idea when Bucky last fed the dog, but he looks hungry to me. He needs to add some weight, much like his owner, so I open a can and slide the contents into his food bowl. "Come and get it." Frenchie carefully gets to his feet, gives Bucky one last look as if checking him over, and then makes his way over to me. It's not the type of dog I would have adopted myself. I would probably opt for a Golden Retriever or a Labrador puppy. Definitely not a black dog with one eye missing. What does that say about me? That I'm superficial? Maybe. Maybe now I would go to the dog shelter and get a dog from death row, who nobody wants to adopt because of some handicap.

Even after all this time, Bucky is still teaching me valuable lessons. The most precious lesson he ever taught me is that friendship has no boundaries. After I rescued him from Hydra, I could tell that Zola had damaged him, and yet, he never hesitated when I asked him to join the team. He wouldn't let me march into battle without him watching my back.

Looking at it in retrospect, I should probably have urged him to go home and to recover from whatever Zola did to him. That haunted expression never left his eyes, and at times I felt selfish for keeping him at my side. But I needed him… I still do.

Since the coffee is ready, I pour some into a mug and carry it with me while making my way back to Bucky. I briefly put it down, sit down on the mattress, and pull Bucky against me. He moves along and uses my thigh for a pillow. I'm grateful he doesn't wake up. He looks like he desperately needs the rest. Some moments later, Frenchie joins us and cuddles up at the foot end.

Not so long ago, Tony told me that he doesn't trust a man who has no dark side. I pray to God that he'll never find out about mine, because I WILL kill the person who tries to take Bucky away from me or who wants to hurt him. Bucky means everything to me.

I sip from my coffee and put it down again. Wow, this tastes quite differently from what I'm used to. It's not bad, but different and much stronger than the coffee I normally have. European stuff is different, I reckon.

The one thing I didn't count on was the smell of freshly made coffee waking up Bucky. I know what signs to look for because we used to sleep like this in the past, so I notice the subtle change to his breathing, the fluttering of his eyelids, and the growing tension in his body. I have no idea what his reaction will be like when he realizes that I'm here and it's no use mentally preparing myself for it. I just have to hope for the best.

Bucky opens his eyes and I involuntarily hold my breath. His first response to finding me here will tell me a lot. He stays as he is, blinks repeatedly, and seems to have trouble recalling where he is. Maybe he thinks he's still at the park where we met?

"Bucky, it's me…" The moment I address him, he freezes. His breath catches and he seems unable to process what's happening. I hate overwhelming him like this, but what can I do? "We met at the park, remember? You didn't feel well and I took you home. Frenchie is here too. I love the name by the way."

I have no idea what to say, how to act, or how to proceed. However, the fact that he hasn't moved away yet is encouraging. I sort of expected him to jump to his feet and put some distance between us. He is backing away now, but slowly, and he doesn't seem intimidated.

"Do you want coffee too? Although, that might not be a good idea. You still seem sleepy." I have no idea if caffeine affects him. Nat's reports say that Zola injected him with some kind of serum made by Hydra, but it didn't give me any specifics. The effects of that particular serum might be different from Erskine's.

Bucky moves until he's sitting up with his back resting against the wall and he looks at me in absolute shock. Okay, that's not good at all, definitely not what I had hoped for. I just have to take it in stride. I knew this was going to be a struggle at first. "I can get you some orange juice as well, that's healthy…" I'm babbling; I always do that when I feel shy around Bucky.

"You can't be real," Bucky says, sounding gruff and stunned. "You can't be here."

He looks completely stunned and a part of me wonders why. "You must have known I wouldn't stop looking for you. I've been searching for you for six months now, ever since you left me on that shore." I'm still upset with him for leaving me like that, but I understand his motives. It was his chance to get away from Hydra. "You must know that I will never give up on you."

Bucky shakes his head and whispers 'no'. I feel sorry for him, but don't reach out yet. He needs some distance and I'm giving it to him. I'll give him anything he needs, but I refuse to be cut out of his life ever again.

"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have come looking for me. This will end in disaster!"

Frenchie gets up and moves over to Bucky, snuggling up to him and burying his nose in his shirt. Bucky's right hand settles on top of the dog's head, stroking it. I'm grateful the dog is helping him calm down. "No, it won't." I wish I knew what to say, but I feel lost. I mentally rehearsed our meeting over and over again, but now that we're talking, words fail me. The only thing I have I have left is honesty. "Buck, finding you was my sole priority ever since I realized you're still alive. Do you have any idea how worried I was – still am?"

"You shouldn't be doing this. You need to go home and forget about me."

He sounds awfully resigned, like he has given up on himself, but he isn't fooling me. He has been building a life here. He never considering giving up. "I can never forget about you… You're important to me. You're my best friend and I care about you. You know that; it's why you made it so hard for me to track you down. You knew I would never look for you in Romania. You KNEW I would search for you."

Bucky tentatively makes eye contact and I cringe at seeing the tired expression in those eyes. He has been on the run for six months and realizes now that it was all for nothing. I found him after all. He always knew I would, he just didn't want to admit it to himself.

I need to defuse the situation and to find a way to make him relax. He already looks deadly exhausted and the added tension only makes it worse. "So what will it be? Coffee or orange juice?" I can tell I surprised him. His eyes widen as he never expected that question. "Are you hungry? I already fed Frenchie, so don't worry about him. When was the last time you ate?" I count on Bucky's instincts to kick in. He always wanted to please me, maybe he still does.

"I had a protein bar this morning…" Bucky reluctantly admits.

"You mean yesterday morning. You slept the night away." Which means getting some food into him comes first. We can talk later. "I'm getting us some breakfast. Just tell me; coffee or orange juice?" A little bullying always worked best with Bucky. Sometimes you can't give him any leeway.

"I don't have either, so what's the point?"

Bucky suddenly zooms in on the coffee that I'm having and his eyes narrow dangerously. I've been found out. "Don't look at me like that! I need to eat too, so I got some groceries. It's no big deal!" Oh, if he's anything like the Bucky of old, he's going to lecture me, and it almost looks like he's going to, but then he deflates and shrugs. That's bad.

"Orange juice," he says tentatively.

"Orange juice it is. Don't disappear on me the moment I turn my back, you hear me? I will come after you and tackle you, if necessary. You know I'm not kidding." The look Bucky gives me tells me he understands. He won't do anything stupid. "Good, I am in the kitchen in case you need me."

I march off into the small kitchen unit and search for a pan to make scrambled egg. I find one which is dented, but clean and ready for use. While I prepare our food, I occasionally look at Bucky from over my shoulder. He looks absolutely bewildered, but he's calm and accepting of my presence here. It's more than I hoped for.

Once I got the scrambled egg ready, I get out the butter and cheese, and then tackle the fresh loaf of bread. It's still warm and smells delicious. However, it's unlike the soft American bread I'm used to. It has a tough crust and I need a proper knife to cut some slices, which end up ridiculously thick, but then again, the bread does smell amazing.

"Do you want room service, or are you moving your sorry ass over to the table?" I refuse to pamper him, and if his memory is mostly restored, he'll remember that's how I usually addressed him in the past.

"I'll move," he says softly.

I don't spy on him and pour more coffee for me and orange juice for him. This is his apartment and I want him to feel comfortable here. He moves the chair back to the table and sits down, still looking lost. I remind myself to take things slowly and to give him the time he needs. I put the orange juice in front of him, move most of the scrambled egg onto his plate, and then sit down to enjoy breakfast, as I am hungry too.

"Eat," I tell him, urging him on. I hope he's hungry. Bucky picks up the fork and I notice the way his right hand twitches. I want to ask him what's up with that, but I decide against it. He's entitled to his privacy. "This place actually reminds me of your apartment in Brooklyn." Bucky looks at me in surprise and I explain, "Yeah, I know the furniture and decoration doesn't compare, but it's tidy… clean, and it breathes a friendly atmosphere. We're not very much alike in that aspect, you know. I actually employ a cleaning lady who comes in four times a week to clean up my mess. You always gave me hell for not picking up after myself."

Does he remember any of that? How much of his memory has been restored? I watch him closely, but Bucky still has a hard time accepting I'm sitting here having breakfast with him. I need to slow down even more. He doesn't reply and I don't pressure him. Instead I watch him and make sure he eats. At least that doesn't seem to be a problem; he quickly finishes his scrambled egg and eats two thick slices of bread topped with butter and cheese. I reach for the counter and pick up the bowl I filled with the assorted fruits Nat and Sam got for us.

"Want some of that?" I select an apple and put it next to my plate as I want to finish my coffee first. Fruit and coffee don't mix as far as I'm concerned. Bucky selects some plums and puts them onto his plate. A surprising choice as I can't recall him liking plums in the past. He must have noticed my surprise because he shrugs.

"One of the merchants in the market place told me they improve your memory…"

I want to take him into my arms and hold him, reassure him, and help him heal, but I doubt he'll even let me touch him at this point. I need to keep my distance instead. "I didn't know that," I say eventually, after thinking over several possible responses. For him to offer that information shows he trusts me, at least I hope so. He's probably also testing me to find out how much space I'm willing to give him. The tension between us remains though and I feel awkward, not knowing how to interact with him. "Bucky…"

He looks at me again, still hesitant, but increasingly comfortable with making eye contact. "I'm not here to take you back to the States. I'm not here on behalf of Shield. I'm not here to force you to do anything you don't want to. I just want to spend time with you, get to know you again… I just want to help."

"No," Bucky says, surprising me. "You want your old friend back."

Damn, I didn't think he'd address that so quickly. I tempered myself and went slowly and he simply plunges ahead. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. Bucky always was direct and it seems that hasn't changed. "Maybe in the beginning I did when I found out you were still alive. Since then, I realized that a lot has happened to you and I know you have changed. I changed too, but… Looking at you now I still see a lot of the old Bucky in you. It's in the way you move and the way you talk. It's all over you and you're right; I'm not giving up. I care a lot about you, Buck, and I'm not giving in without a fight. No, that doesn't sound right. What I'm trying to say is that I'm not willing to give up on you without trying first… Do I make any sense at all?" I am babbling again, but I don't mind as Bucky is smiling at me – shyly and obviously reserved, but he IS smiling at me.

"You still ramble on, don't you?"

I return the smile wholeheartedly. "Like I said, some things never change. I still babble when I get nervous."

"You're nervous around me then?"

Bucky sips from his orange juice and studies me openly – for the first time. He's growing more confident and I take heart. "Yeah, I am. I'm scared I'll say the wrong thing and that you'll shut down. I'm afraid that when I turn my back, that you'll make a run for it. I have no clue what I am doing or if it's working. I just want you back in my life." I can't get more honest than that and I hope he knows that.

"You're asking for a lot," he mumbles and looks dazed.

"I know that, trust me, I realize that. I can only hope that you'll give me a chance. I want to help. I want you back in my life, Bucky." I grow silent and give him the time he needs to think it over. He looks defeated, but the expression in his eyes tells me that he hasn't given up yet. He's still willing to fight; he just lacks the energy to do so.

"I'm not sure I can give you want you want. Look at me," he says and gives me a sad smile. "I'm a mere shadow of the man I used to be. There are days when I don't feel solid at all, more like a ghost."

He pauses to find the right words and I hang on to every one of them.

"I live in constant fear that someone will recognize me. Either Hydra or Shield will find me and probably shoot me on sight. If not, they'll capture me, and I don't want to go back to living like that. I was a prisoner for so long and I like having some measure of freedom back. I like sitting in the park, or heading for the market. I know the apartment doesn't look like much, but it's home. I feel safe here. I know how to get away in case of an attack and I can find my way around the city. I knew it wouldn't last, but…"

"I'm not taking anything of that away from you." I suddenly think of something. "The apartment opposite yours is for rent. Can you talk to the landlord and get me in?" Bucky stares at me in disbelief. "Hey, home is where YOU are. It doesn't matter to me if I live in Brooklyn or Bucharest as long as you're near." I might have gone a little overboard as he looks positively stunned, but I don't care. I need to get my point across. I'm willing to do a lot if that means having Bucky in my life again.

"Stevie…"

Damn, he hasn't called me that in ages and my eyes start to tear up. He called me that whenever he got me out of trouble, which I quite frequently ran into, mostly in back alleys trying to talk some sense into bullies. He called me that when I was sick and confined to bed and he found me sneaking out to help my mother.

"Bucky…" I quickly rub my eyes as I don't want to cry in front of him. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable because I can't control my emotions. But it has been so long!

"Fuck, you're going to make this difficult, aren't you? Well, you always do."

I gasp the moment Bucky moves his chair closer to mine and carefully draws me into a loose hug. I can't believe he's actually doing that. So far, he kept me at a distance and I was convinced that a mere touch would send him running out of the room. Apparently I was wrong. Equally cautiously I wrap an arm around him in turn, and although I don't use any pressure, he tenses against me. My first reaction is to let go, but I can't. God help me, but I can't. "I'm sorry," I apologize as I move closer and rest my head on his shoulder. "But I need this. I need to know you're alive and really here."

I have no idea how Bucky will react to me clinging to him, but then he moves closer still and tightens the embrace. I sigh deeply and hold on to him, hugging him close. "You have no idea how many times I dreamed about this finally happening. Once I knew you were alive, there wasn't a day that went by without me imagining finding you and holding you again." Bucky sighs and soothingly rubs my back like he used to do. This feels familiar and I happily bury my face in the crook of his neck. "Don't ever leave me again, do you hear me?"

"I never wanted to leave you," Bucky whispers into my ear. "But I didn't have a choice. When that blast blew me off that train, I was done. I shouldn't have survived that fall. I should have died that day and you should have made your peace with that. But you didn't, did you? I know what you're like. You blame yourself for what happened."

"Yeah, I did… I still do." I lift my head and slightly move away from him so I can look at Bucky. I see only forgiveness in those blue eyes. Bucky never blamed me for what happened.

"It wasn't your fault, Steve. I made the decision to pick up that shield and to distract the enemy. It was bad luck, nothing else."

That is Bucky all right, but I doubt I will ever forgive myself for what happened on that train and afterwards when Zola got his hands on him. "So are you letting me stay?"

"You sound like a lost puppy expecting to be kicked out of his home."

Well, I feel like that, so I can't contradict him. "Are you keeping me?"

"I took in Frenchie," Bucky says in a gentle voice.

For the first time, warmth shows in his smile. His eyes light up and I recognize the Bucky of old. He's keeping me. He isn't going to turn me away. I'll get my chance. I know it; he doesn't have to tell me.

"I can take in another stray, especially if that means free groceries."

His attempt at humor does wonders and the tension disappears. I smile back at him and nod. "I'll buy all the food we need, no problem."

"You can stay here, if that is what you want."

The insecurity is back and I get it. We're not ready to spend twenty-four hours a day together. He desperately needs his privacy; he didn't have any with Hydra. "Thanks, but I think I'll move into that apartment anyway. We need a slow start, don't you agree? We can rebuild our friendship little by little. We both need that." I know I hit bull's eye when Bucky nods approvingly.

"I'll talk to the manager later. He'll be happy to have found a new tenant that quickly. I'll give you the key so you can move in whenever you want."

I never thought we would end up being neighbors, but I like the idea. I really believe I would drive him mad if I moved into his apartment. I can deal with him being across the hallway and checking on him from time to time. "You aren't going to run away, are you? If so, I need to warn you. I WILL come after you. I'm not letting you get away a second time."

"I thought I was doing the right thing – for both of us," Bucky explains in a soft, trembling voice. "I didn't want to burden you and I was in no way ready to face you. I felt so fucking confused… I had no idea what was going on and I could only think of getting away from Hydra. I never got a chance like that before, so I took it and ran."

I slowly slip my hand into his and wrap my fingers around it. It's his right hand and it feels warm, sweaty, and it's trembling. We're both nervous. "But you won't run…" I need him to say it.

"I won't run," Bucky says eventually. "But Stevie, you must understand that I'm not that man anymore. I changed and not for the better."

There is self doubt all over his face and I shake my head. "I like the new you too." Bucky wants to say something, but then he closes his mouth again. Apparently I managed to shut him up – good.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Steve Fucking Rogers is actually cleaning my kitchen. Is this the same person who left wet towels, shoes, books, and even food all over my apartment so many decades ago? He actually looks happy to do the dishes and to clean up. Apparently miracles still happen.

Frenchie climbed onto my lap, forgetting just how big he is, and refuses to get down again. So I ended up stuck on my chair, patting a German Sheppard who thinks he's a lap dog. Can my life get any weirder than that? It looks like it, because Steve wants to move into the empty apartment across the hall. I still don't know what to think about that.

"Here, maybe you should have some. You look like you're about to fall asleep again, and although I agree that you need your rest, I want to enjoy your sparkling presence a bit longer," Steve says, winking cheekily at me.

He's enjoying this way too much, but I accept the steaming mug filled with coffee. I've grown used to drinking it black, since I didn't want to spend money on milk and sugar, but Steve bought some anyways and he already added them to my coffee.

"Yeah, I remember – two sugars and lots of milk."

I move the mug closer and wrap my right hand around it. The food helped and I feel human again, but I'm still far from healed. I hope Steve realizes that. If he really wants to do this, he must realize he's in it for the long run. I already feel bad for taking up so much of his time. "Don't you have anything else to do? Save the world? Arrest a villain?" I attempt some humor, but I'm not sure it's working. It's been a lifetime since I joked around with him. I'm not sure I'm still capable of it.

"Not at the moment," Steve says and shakes his head. "Right now you are number one on my list. The rest can wait."

I can't help but blush. It's been ages since someone told me I mattered. "What if I'm a lost cause and you're wasting your time?" I'm not sure I'll ever find my way back to a normal life. I feel damaged. Hydra ripped me apart – body and soul - and left the pieces scattered all over my mind. How am I supposed to put myself together again? These days, I'm happy that I'm able to function on a daily base!

"What makes you think that? You're no lost cause!"

Steve sounds determined and I wonder what he sees in me – this shell of the person I used to be. Maybe it's best if I tell him, so he knows what to expect. Then he can make up his mind about supporting me or not. "This is a good day. Yesterday was a bad day. Most of my days are bad. When you found me in that park I was in a bad way. Sometimes I get a warning beforehand, but lately, these episodes happen without warning."

"What happened in the park?" Steve moves his chair closer to the table, eager to take it all in. "You were in pain, weren't you?"

He's much too eager to help. I sip my coffee in order to buy myself some time. "How much do you know about Hydra messing with my mind?" I'm not sure I want to hear this, but we need to get this out in the open – if he wants to stay, that is. Steve's expression becomes thoughtful, telling me he's considering what to reveal and what to keep to himself.

"I know they wiped your mind several times. The last mind wipe took place before you fought me on that helicarrier. I can only guess what other measures they took to make sure you obeyed."

I like the way he phrased that, but I'm not buying it. He knows a lot more than he's letting on, but he's keeping back, probably not to hurt my feelings, and yes, I appreciate it. I'm not ready to discuss Hydra and their methods to control me.

"Do you know how they wiped my mind?" I really don't want to do this, but I owe him this much. I'm not sure I'll be able to go through with it though. Much depends on the way he handles the situation. As long as he doesn't get emotional about it, I might be able to follow through. Steve hesitates; he probably realizes how hard this is on me.

"They used some kind of machine…"

He leaves it at that, allowing me to tell him what I'm comfortable with. I sip again, wondering why I'm doing this. I never wanted to tell a living soul. "It hurts," I say eventually, realizing I need to stick to the facts and ignore my emotions for now. I'll probably pay for it later when I am asleep. "They suck out your soul and replace it with something cold and unyielding. It pushed me away and…" Too close, I need to stay away from that for now.

"Bucky…"

Steve's hand moves across the table and he presents it to me, palm up, a silent offering. I'm not sure I should take it.

"You don't have to do this. I can tell you're hurting."

Yeah, he knows me well. I doubt I can fool him. I let out a sigh and place my right hand in his. His fingers close around mine and I stare at our joined hands for some time. "All those memories they sucked out, they're coming back. It's fast and it hurts like hell. It's like having my mind wiped in reverse. There are so many memories, but I can't hold onto them. They disappear and only a few of them surface later – mostly at night when I'm asleep and not on guard. Lately, it also happens during the day without warning. I usually end up with a killer headache." I'm surprised I managed to get it all out. I didn't expect that; I thought I would shut down instead.

"I suspected as much."

Steve being calm helps. It also helps that he isn't freaking out and giving me the third degree. "There's nothing I can do about it. I'm always scared that it will happen when I'm amongst people. Someone will alert the police and then they'll find out who I am and they will…" I stop myself from picturing the worst case scenario as it will only cause me to panic. "Yesterday, I was lucky I was in the park when it happened. I was lucky you were there to take me home."

"Living through something like that must be frightening. I'll keep a close eye on you. I promise to watch your back from now on."

He still knows what to say in order to reassure me, but this time, his reassurances cause me to get emotional. I fight the tears trying to rise in my eyes as I don't want to cry in front of him. Angrily, I wipe away some tears that managed to escape at any rate. "Sorry," I apologize.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. What you went through… Bucky, it's amazing you survived! I doubt I would have had the courage to go on if I had been in your shoes."

"Don't say things like that." I pull away my hand and rub my eyes, willing the tears to stop. I lost count of the times I cried myself to sleep during these last few months. I refuse to shed more tears over this.

"But it's the truth! You managed to build a life here; considering everything you went through, that's amazing!"

"You make it sound like you couldn't have done it and that's nonsense. I'm just trying to survive. I don't have a choice. It's either that or lying down to die." At least, it feels that way. I don't know how to deal with praise like that because I don't feel like I deserve it.

"How much is the rent for that apartment across the hallway?"

Steve's question comes as a complete surprise. I welcome the change in subject though; I don't want to talk about myself as it makes me extremely uncomfortable. "It's the most expensive one, and the manager prefers to be paid in Euro or Dollars rather than Leu."

"How much in Dollars then?"

"Four hundred. And the deposit is another four hundred, so eight hundred in total. He prefers cash; it's easier to cheat the tax service that way."

Steve chuckles and nods. "We'll find an ATM and get that money for your boss. I want to move in as quickly as possible."

Now that we moved away from me and are addressing him renting the apartment, I am starting to relax. "Don't you want to see it first?"

"Can I?"

Steve gets to his feet and Frenchie thinks we're going for a walk, so he enthusiastically jumps onto the floor. "Sure, I've got the keys right here. Do you want to see it now?"

Steve nods. "And looking at Frenchie, I suspect we should add a long walk after checking out the apartment. He looks edgy, eager to get out of here."

I'm eager for some fresh air too, I realize, much to my surprise. Normally I prefer staying at home. I tell Frenchie to stay, which he does only reluctantly while Steve and I move into the hallway. I unlock the door and step aside so Steve can have a look.

Surprised at the luxury, Steve looks about. "This is much nicer than your place!"

"I don't pay rent… So I get the cheapest apartment." I look around. It's spacious, comes with a well-equipped kitchen, and has two bedrooms. The bathroom features a big bathtub and there's a balcony. He's getting a good deal, even if it's expensive. "Do you like it?" The manager promised me a bonus if I managed to find a tenant.

"I'm taking it. Do I need to sign a contract?"

"Not with this guy. Here, take them. You need a place to crash tonight." A look I fail to identify moves across Steve's face, but it's gone too quickly and I have no idea what it was about.

"You're right," Steve says quickly and pockets the keys.

But that's not what he wanted to say; something completely different is on his mind, and I'm not going to address it. I don't want this conversation to focus on me again.

"Maybe we should take Frenchie for that walk now?" Steve suggests in a hopeful voice.

I know what he's doing… Of course, I do. He knows I'm not ready yet to discuss what happened to me and he's steering clear of that subject and distracting me. I smile shyly, once more being reminded that he's a true friend. "Yeah, let's do that."

We move back to my place and Frenchie gets all excited the moment I reach for his leash. Steve uncovers a plastic bag I haven't seen before and removes a Frisbee from it. "Where did that come from?" It doesn't belong to me.

"Frenchie might like playing with it." Steve grins at seeing Frenchie's tail wagging increase when the dog catches sight of the object.

"You don't need to buy stuff like that." I don't want him to spend that much money unnecessarily.

"Hey, it's a dog's toy, no harm done."

I recall Steve giving me that look before. It reminds me of scrawny Stevie looking at me like that and then winding me around his little finger. I have never been able to withstand that look and he knows it, the bastard.

"Fine." I turn around and Frenchie moves to my side. A moment later, Steve falls into step with me. Moving onto the street, I find it's a warm and sunny day. Days like that are rare during autumn. "Are you okay with heading to the park first? Frenchie needs some exercise."

"Fine with me, as long as you remember that we need to find an ATM later."

"I won't forget," I joke hesitantly and it earns me a brilliant smile on Steve's part. Maybe I'm not a lost cause after all.

0000

I end up sitting on a bench and watch Steve play with Frenchie. The two of them are really into it. So far Frenchie caught the Frisbee each time Steve threw it. Considering his poor eyesight that's quite an achievement.

I don't know how I feel about Steve showing up like this. A part of me is thrilled and relieved that he found me. Having him at my side makes me stronger, I realize that. He will support me, no matter what. At the same time, the very thought of him stepping back into my life scares me big time.

How far will he go to help me? I can't be trusted, not with these episodes screwing with my head. Steve should keep his distance at the very least. Leaving me would be in his best interest, but I doubt he sees it that way. When he told me on that helicarrier that he would be with me till the end of the line, he meant it.

"I need a break!" Steve sits down on the bench next to me. "That dog has way too much energy."

But Frenchie is tired too and lies down at my feet. He seems happy – as happy as a dog can be. I look at the people surrounding us. There are kids playing, mothers pushing prams, and some joggers are working up a sweat. The sun is out, there are hardly any clouds, and I feel at peace. That's a first since a long time and I know who to thank for it. It's because Steve is back in my life. I steal a glance at him and he looks happy too, smiling broadly, and his eyes glow with a light of their own.

"I like this place." Steve turns toward me. "Something tells me we will spend a lot of time here. Maybe you can show me more of the city tonight? I'm rather curious. I've never been here before."

He's not faking it. Steve is a terribly bad actor; I know he's happy at the moment, but will it last? What if he realizes how mentally unstable I really am? "Maybe," I tell him, not wanting to commit myself in case my condition worsens. Steve gets the hint and nods.

"We had better find that ATM and keep your landlord happy so he doesn't kick me out before I moved in!"

I feel conflicted where Steve is concerned. He's putting his life on hold for me and I don't like that. The way he looks at me tells me that he knows something is wrong, but I lack the courage to tell him.

0000

"Here you are, eight hundred Dollars."

I quickly put it away as I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. Like any major city, Bucharest has its share of thieves and robbers. I scan the people close to us and am relieved that no one is paying us any attention. I'll phone the manager later and tell him Steve is his new tenant.

"Do you need anything from the shops? Groceries for example?"

Whom is he trying to fool? "You stuffed my cupboards to the gills. Even if I wanted to buy something, I have no place left to store it." Steve has the grace to blush and gives me an apologetic look.

"Do you mind?"

I shake my head. I hate this lingering tension between us, but he can't expect me to accept his presence on the spot. I was building a life here and then he showed up, changing everything. I don't know how to deal with that. "It'll take time," I offer, knowing Steve senses my unease too. "I never expected you to find me. I made my peace with being on the run. You changed everything."

"Don't worry about that."

Steve slips his hand into the pocket of my coat and closes his fingers over mine. I gasp, as he's holding onto my left hand and no one ever touches my bionic arm. The fact that Steve is willing to touch it is… it's overwhelming. "You shouldn't do that."

"In public? That's why I'm sneaky about it."

Sneaky? Did he really say sneaky? I chuckle and shake my head. "You call this sneaky?" I twine our fingers, feeling hesitant and shy about the physical contact. My life has been a lonely one and physical touch was rare. Someone touching me affectionately was nonexistent. Hydra preferred punishment instead. "Stevie…"

"I love it when you call me that."

Steve gently squeezes my fingers and I sigh. I won't succeed in making him leave. No matter what I do, Steve will stay at my side. Accepting that is hard on me. I convinced myself that I would be on my own for the rest of my life and now Steve changed all that. "You need to be patient…" I caution him, knowing only too well that patience never was Steve's forte.

"I know that and I accept it. We'll make it… We just need time."

I nod, but don't feel convinced. Things are still awkward between us and I doubt that will change overnight.

0000

I call the manager, and as expected, he's thrilled to be making money again. He doesn't ask for any details on Steve, mostly because I vouch for him.

"It's all yours, the apartment. He's fine with it." Steve gives me a contented smile and I can't help but wonder if he actually intends to spend any time there. So far he has been hogging my couch, which, I know from personal experience, is hard on the back and fairly uncomfortable. I hope he doesn't intend to sleep there. He'll wreck his back if he does. When the time comes, I'll remind him that he has a perfectly soft bed at his own place.

"You're as grumpy as always," Steve comments and grins.

"I'm not grumpy," I tell him, feeling offended, I'm doing the best I can. I can't help it that his sudden appearance put me off balance.

"Yes, you are," he says, always needing to have the last word. "How about we start cooking dinner? I'm hungry."

"You can cook…" I sit down and stretch my legs. I rest my head against the couch and close my eyes. Will this exhaustion ever go away? My bones feel heavy and my body is dragging me down, making me feel like I sinking away in quicksand. Sleep is sneaking up on me, but that's a bad idea. If I sleep now, I won't be able to get some rest tonight.

"What's wrong?"

Suddenly Steve is awfully close. I didn't notice him shifting toward me. I reluctantly open my eyes and try to focus on him. However, my eyes close out of their own accord and I need a moment to force them open again.

"You're tired."

That's a brilliant observation on Steve's part, certainly worthy of Captain America! "You…reckonnn?" My speech is slurred, telling me that I need to lie down. Slurred speech is one of the signs warning me of a possible upcoming episode.

"Yeah, I do. This couch isn't very comfortable, what about your bed?"

Getting over to the bed implies I have to move and I'm not willing to do that. I'm staying right where I am. "Not…neces…sary." I'm quickly getting worse and that worries me. I don't want Steve to witness one of those violent flashbacks.

"I disagree," Steve states and moves closer still. "Let me put my super powers to good use."

That can't be good and I wonder what he's up to. I get my answer a moment later, when he pushes his hands beneath my knees and back, lifting me in his arms. "You dddon't… have…to…" But I'm losing the fight and I can't keep my eyes open. I hate it when my body betrays me like that. What if it shuts down when I'm in danger and need to make a run for it?

"Don't fight it," Steve whispers and carries me over to the mattress where he puts me down. "Just get some sleep. I'll wake you the moment dinner is ready, yes?"

I don't want to go to sleep; it's where my nightmares wait for me. I don't want to wake up screaming and scaring off Steve. But none of that is up to me. I'm exhausted and my body needs rest, so it shuts down and I fall asleep.

0000

I know him… I know him… Yet Pierce tells me that I'm wrong, that I merely met him on an earlier mission, but he's lying.

Pierce doesn't trust me anymore. He knows how to read the warning signs, telling him that the Winter Soldier is gone and that I am back. Pierce doesn't trust me to act in Hydra's best interest and he's right. I don't want to fight their battles anymore. I just want to know why I know him. Who was that guy on the bridge and why did he call me Bucky?

"Wipe him… Prepare him for his next mission."

Pierce's order is my death sentence. Wiping me means that they'll take away my memories and I don't want that. This is important to me. That man is important to me. I want to be able to remember what he looks like, what his voice sounds like, and how blue his eyes are. I don't want to forget about him!

I briefly consider resisting my handlers, fighting them, and escaping the place, but I know it's useless. I tried to get away before and I failed. The punishment was horrible. I don't want to go through that ever again, so I obey instead. But why can't they leave this one memory intact? I don't want to go back to being HIM. He never remembers a thing. He's cold and merciless. He kills at Hydra's command; he's Hydra's fist.

All I want from them is to leave me alone so I can hold on to that one memory. But they never listen and Pierce's word is law. My handlers push me into the chair and the restrains snap into place, holding me down. They force back my head, push the mouth guard into place, and then the machine comes to life, promising me living hell. No, please, I don't want this. I want to tell them that, but the mouth guard prevents me from speaking.

"No!" I scream out in pain when the electricity moves through my body, burning my nerves' ends. It creeps up into my brain, leaving small electric charges running through my body, burning me alive.

"Bucky, come on, don't do this to me!"

Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky? And whose voice is that?

"Bucky, I need you to focus. You're not with Hydra. You're with me, Steve, remember me? Little Stevie who always got his ass kicked? I need you, Buck. I need you to wake up and to remember me."

Steve? Stevie? I don't know anyone called that… or do I? A face, once loved and familiar, manifests in my mind. I know that face. I remember those blue eyes that always pleaded with me to give into him. Steve… yes…

"Stevie…"

"Thank God," Steve whispers in obvious relief.

I need time to process what is happening. The first thing I see is Steve's face, hovering above me, looking worriedly at me. Then I grow aware of his touch; the way he caresses my hair with one hand and rubs my back with the other. He must have pulled me into his arms earlier, because I'm leaning against him for support. My head hurts, my right hand twitches, and the left has frozen into a fist, which I can't seem to unlock. I know it will pass; I just need time to recover from that fucking nightmare.

"You're awake, that's good. What happened? Did you have a nightmare? You called out and I had a hard time getting through to you."

Steve pulls me even closer against him. "Not quite a nightmare…" I confide in him and try to ease my breathing, which is much too fast. "More like a flashback." At least now he knows what he's up against. "It was only a mild attack… They can get pretty devastating." I don't want to tell him just how bad they can get. I need him right now and don't want him running scared.

"If you want to talk about it, I'll listen," Steve offers. I'm about to decline when Steve adds some more. "But not right now. Dinner's ready. Do you think you can eat? Your condition might improve if you eat regularly. Your body needs fuel now that it's working so hard to remember."

Eating is the last thing on my mind, but I'll try because it is Steve asking and he means well. "What did you cook?" If I remember correctly, he's a bad cook.

"Pasta." Steve gives me a sheepish look. "But not the canned sort. I used fresh pasta and a nice tomato-based sauce. It tastes good, I promise. I learned to cook a little, mostly because food these days tastes weird."

"I can't make it over to the table," I tell him, making myself vulnerable by doing so. "I'll stumble and fall." At the moment I feel too weak to move.

"I'll bring it over here. Just wait!"

Steve pops up a pillow against the wall and I rest my back against it. He's eager to please, just like a puppy. Which reminds me of Frenchie. He's still at my side, curled up next to me, and his head rests on my thigh. "Did you feed him yet?"

"Yeah, earlier on when you were still asleep. He's fine, don't worry."

Steve returns and places a plate filled with pasta onto my lap. He then settles down next to me with his own plate and offers me a fork and spoon. I pick the fork, ignore the spoon, and move the food about on the plate. It smells good. As long as I go slowly, I should be able to manage some.

"Do you remember our pajama days?" Steve asks in a hopeful voice.

"I do," I admit. Remembering those days actually manages to drive away the remaining darkness. "Whenever you were down with a cold, or even worse, pneumonia, I would sneak in through the window. Your mother always worried that I would catch your cold and tried to keep us apart."

"That never worked though," Steve says and a big smirk appears on his face. "I'd leave the window open and you'd sneak in. After mum left for work, you'd change into your pajamas and we would snuggle under the blankets. You'd read to me or make up stories. We traveled the world that way, and one time, we even went to Mars, remember?"

I nod and smile, remembering happier times. "We made up little Martian men and round Martian women." Steve would cough and sneeze all throughout my story, but it didn't matter. "Sometimes you fell asleep and drooled all over me."

"Sorry about that," Steve whispers, but he doesn't look sorry at all. "We can do that again, although we'll probably watch television instead. There's a lot of movies you need to catch up on."

"Steve," I whisper and look him in the eye, no matter how hard that is on me. "Are you really sure you want to take me on? What happened earlier is nothing compared to a full-fledged attack. You won't get much sleep if you decide to stay with me. You constantly need to be on your guard. My behavior is unpredictable. You need to realize I'm one breath away from insanity."

"You're not going to scare me off," Steve says and smiles. "We'll do this together. We always did in the past and this isn't any different. I'm sure about this, Buck."

"I hope you are, because things will only get worse."

"Maybe at first, but they WILL get better."

I don't share his faith… I guess only time will tell who's right.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Bucky looks depressed and I hate seeing him that way. Especially when he has no reason to feel like that. I understand it's different for him though; while he thinks of himself as a failure. I think he's a hero. I meant what I said earlier; had Hydra brainwashed me, I doubt I would have found the courage to rebuild my life, not the way he's doing it, without any support at all. After I woke up from the ice, I had a lot of support. Fury, Tony, Clint, Nat, Coulson, Sam, just name them. They always back me up. Bucky had no one, but that has changed now that he has me.

We took Frenchie to the park and Bucky played with him, throwing the Frisbee this time, and the dog loved getting that much attention. Bucky wanted to go back to the apartment, but I managed to talk him into taking me to the market place, reminding him we needed plums. He gave me the weirdest look ever when I told him that. However, he gave in and is taking me there now.

Bucky doesn't like it, but I keep my fingers locked around his. I make certain that no one sees us holding hands, as he strikes me as terribly insecure, so I went back to being sneaky about it. "Is everything okay? You're awfully quiet." Bucky shrugs and doesn't look at me. He seems lost in thought.

"I still have a hard time believing you are here and that this is real. I still expect to wake up all alone again."

At least he's being honest. "I'm here to stay," I promise. We reach the market square and we end up buying more than just plums. We march off with fresh veggies, fruit, cheese, bottled milk, and honey. I think we'll be heading back there soon. Everything looks fresh and inviting, unlike some food you encounter in the supermarket. Since it's getting late and growing dark, we head back home.

Bucky puts everything into the fridge and cupboards and I grin at hearing him curse because there's so little space left. I catch him closing one of the cupboards' doors rather quickly because a lot of groceries are threatening to tumble down. A look at my watch tells me it's nine in the evening already, and although I don't feel particularly tired, Bucky looks like he desperately needs the rest.

I walk up to him, slowly wrap an arm around him, and turn him towards me. He complies and gives me a tired look. He's definitely dead on his feet. "Why don't you grab a hot shower and then we'll turn in for the night?" Bucky's facial features briefly contort and I know he's hiding something. "Spill it."

"The apartment has no hot water or heating. I can't afford it."

"But there's more…" I hint.

"I don't do cold well these days. I feel cold all the time. I'll skip the shower if you don't mind. It's easier to deal with the cold in the morning."

There's a story there, but he isn't ready yet to tell me and I need to distract him. Maybe I know a solution. "What about my apartment?" I grin at him, trying to ease his nervousness. "Does it have heating and hot water? It should, at four hundred a month!"

"Yeah, of course it does."

I'm pleased that Bucky isn't moving away or breaking the semi embrace I caught him in. He's getting better at accepting my presence. All he needs is time, I remind myself. "Then why don't we move there for the night? We can come back here in the morning. If you don't do cold well, and this place has no heating, you'll be cold all night." Bucky wants to protest, but I cock my head and give him THAT look. I know it will get me what I am after, namely Bucky's cooperation. Winding him around my little finger is still easy.

"If that's what you want… Just tell me to leave when you want your privacy."

It breaks my heart that he thinks I'll ever kick him out. "You're always welcome at my home. I want you there and it doesn't matter if we're here or in Brooklyn." Bucky looks shaken and I decide against continuing to reassure him. "We need some things if we want to spend the night there. Why don't you get your stuff and I'll bag some groceries and Frenchie's food as well." I reluctantly let go and Bucky moves away from me.

While I busy myself collecting milk, honey, and some snacks, I watch Bucky from the corner of my eye. He's messing around with the floorboards and I wonder why. He removes a backpack and a large plastic bag. I'm dying to know what he thinks is so important that he needs to take it with him for the night. I don't ask him – yet.

"I'm all set," I tell him and pick up Frenchie's bowls. The dog's giving us an odd look as he probably doesn't know what's happening "Are you ready to go?" Bucky quickly grabs some clothes and stuffs them into the backpack. I'm dying to know what is in it.

"Yes," Bucky says and moves toward the door.

I follow him into my new apartment and watch him lock the door behind us. Next, he checks all the windows, making sure they're closed. I understand his paranoia; he's afraid Hydra – or Shield – will take him unaware. Does he even know Hydra's down for the moment? "Satisfied we're safe?"

"For the moment…" Bucky places the backpack and plastic bag beneath the bed and takes in the room.

I know what he is doing. He's trying to work out escape routes and possible points of entry. I reckon it will take a long time for him to relax now that he's out of his familiar surroundings. His apartment might only be a few feet away from mine, but this is obvious alien territory to him.

"Why don't you treat yourself to a bath? A long, hot soak in that bathtub sounds great, doesn't it?" I don't play fair and I know it. Bucky's eyes widen and I can tell he's considering giving in. "Just imagine, giving your poor muscles a chance to relax." Bucky gives me a disapproving look; he knows exactly what I'm doing.

"Fine," he states rather sharply, picks up his clothes, and disappears into the bathroom.

I should feel bad for manipulating him, but I don't. He needs to unwind, even if he doesn't know it himself.

I wait for the water to start running and take the groceries into the kitchen, which is much nicer and better equipped. I fill up Frenchie's water bowl and sit down on the floor next to the dog, whose tail is wagging like mad. He probably smells the treats in my pocket. I feed them to him. He seems to love them, but he's more interested in me patting him. I spend another five minutes giving him my attention and then get back to my feet.

My thoughts return to Bucky's stuff hiding beneath the bed. I could have a look and find out what's so important to him that he's hauling it along, but then I would break his trust. I don't want that. I want him to trust me unconditionally, which means I can't do anything that makes him suspicious.

I sit down on the couch, which is also a lot more comfortable than Bucky's, and decide to give Nat a call. I should stay in touch with them on a regular base.

"Steve, is that you? Why didn't you call sooner?"

Nat's impatience brings a smile to my face. "I miss you too, Nat." That shuts her up for a few seconds. "Is Sam with you?"

"Yes, he's here too. So how are things? We saw you in the park and later at the market square. Your buddy doesn't look well."

I'm not surprised that they followed us around. All three of us worry about Hydra operatives we missed to arrest while chasing after Bucky. Sam and Nat keeping an eye on us means I have back up in case Buck and I run into trouble. "The flashbacks are bad, Nat. I had a hard time waking him up when he had a nightmare. What Hydra did to him… It nearly destroyed him."

"I read those reports on him too," Nat says. "It's a miracle Barnes didn't go insane. His will must be incredibly strong for him to have survived that."

"He needs help though and I'm going to make sure he gets it. Which reminds me, I need my stuff from the hotel. I need my suitcase."

"Your luggage showing up at your door miraculously will make him suspicious," Nat cautions me. "You must appear to head for the hotel to pick it up." She grows silent for a moment. "Yes, you must come to the hotel tomorrow, collect it yourself, and pay for your room. You must remember who you are dealing with. Barnes is probably paranoid as hell and he might follow you to check if you have been telling him the truth. You can't be seen with Sam and me. Do you understand?"

"I don't think he'll follow me and check on me." But she's right. I can't be sure about that. "I'll drop by around noon."

"We'll keep in touch by phone. Remember, you don't want to do anything that makes him suspicious."

"But…" I don't like her plan after all. "That means I have to leave him on his own. What if he runs off while I'm at the hotel?"

"Then you'll have to respect that, Rogers." Nat sounds accepting of the situation. "Ultimately it has to be his decision."

She's right, but I don't like it one bit. The water shuts down and that's my cue to hang up. "I'll call you tomorrow, same time."

"We'll be here. I wish you luck, Rogers. You need it."

I terminate the call and pocket my phone. Frenchie jumps onto the couch and curls up next to me, putting his head on my thigh and closing his eye. My hand automatically turns to stroking his head and with my other I reach for the remote control. Behind me, the bathroom door opens, but I don't peek. I want Bucky to feel free to act however he wants. All motion stops and it seems like he's frozen in place. Just when I'm about to check on him, he starts walking again, and eventually sits down at the other end of the couch.

Looking at him, I find that his hair is still wet and clings to his face. He changed into sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt covering most of his bionic arm. He smells of soap and shampoo. On closer inspection, I realize he's shivering. It can't be due to any cold, as I turned on the heating the moment I walked in and the place has warmed up nicely.

"Bathroom is all yours," he announces.

I catch him looking at his stuff beneath the bed. The moment I'm gone, he will check on it to see if I messed with it. "Thanks, but I'm not interested. I'll shower in the morning. I'm comfortable the way I am and so is Frenchie. Why don't you move closer?" Bucky however doesn't budge and stays in place. I need a different approach then and I still have one or two tricks up my sleeve. "Do you still like your feet rubbed?" The look Bucky gives me borders on downright panic, so I guess that's a big no. But then he surprises me.

"You actually remember that?"

"How could I forget? It was the easiest way to bribe you and to get what I wanted. So I reckon that's a yes?" I made that discovery by accident. We were about nine or ten and my mum decided that putting us in the bathtub together saved her a lot of time. We had rolled in the mud, or to be honest, I pushed Bucky and then he dragged me down with him.

In the bathtub I got hold of his feet as I wanted to see if he was ticklish, but I ended up massaging them instead, and after that, convincing Bucky to go along with any of my ideas was ludicrously easy. I ended up rubbing his feet whenever I had to make up for something stupid I got myself into. It always got me off the hook. I reach for his feet, and as my move stuns Bucky, I get away with pulling them into my lap. Frenchie moves, but keeps a close eye on us.

"What do you think you're doing? Don't."

Bucky wants to pull his feet away, but I'm faster and run my thump up his sole and begin massaging those toes. He closes his eyes and turns to putty in my hands within seconds, quickly forgetting about objecting. I feel smug now that my plan is working. I need to stay quiet though as I suspect that the sound of my voice will lure him from his trance and then he will stop me. So I keep my mouth shut and watch him unwind. It seems some things never change. It's good to know that I can still manipulate him a little.

It takes Bucky about ten minutes to even try to open his eyes. He finds that hard though and struggles to keep them open. "It's okay. Go to sleep." It's ten PM and time to turn in – at least for him, and I'm staying close. I want to be there in case those nightmares return. Something is keeping him from letting go and it takes me a few minutes to figure it out. It's the television. He twitches each time there's a loud noise or if the screens comes alight with bright light. I reach for the remote and switch it off. The change is instant; Bucky relaxes. I need to figure out what that was about, but later, not now.

I let go of his feet, but Bucky is already dozing off and not lucid enough to comment. Like before, I lift him and cradle him against my chest. After carrying him over to the bed, I lower him onto it and cover him with the comforter. Frenchie follows suit and curls up at the foot end, watching over him.

I quickly run through my bathroom routine, and as I don't have any spare clothes on me, I cast a quick look at the clothes Bucky brought with him. There's a clean T-shirt and it fits – kinda. I collect some bottled water from the kitchen and move back to the bedroom. Bucky's peacefully asleep for now, but I doubt it will last.

There's a full moon and the moonbeams offer some light, but not enough. I need to know what's happening, should Bucky have another fit. I end up switching on a table lamp on the dresser opposite the bed and it's perfect. The light it provides is modest, but it gives me something to work with in case Bucky has a nightmare.

I lie down, turn onto my side, and slowly pull Bucky into my arms. He allows it and probably doesn't even register my move, as he's completely out of it. I shift until I'm comfortable and press a kiss onto Bucky's hair. "Sleep tight." I'm realistic enough to realize that the nightmares will come, but for now Bucky's sleep is restful. I hope it will stay that way for a few hours at least.

0000

Bucky moving about wakes me from my sleep. A look at the alarm clock tells me it's three in the morning, which means he managed about five hours of undisturbed sleep. That's probably a lot more than he gets on an average night. I slowly move away from him, release him from my embrace to give him some space to move about in, and watch him closely.

Bucky moves onto his back and seems to have trouble breathing. He's gasping, desperately trying to draw in breath. Suddenly he claws at his mouth, as if he's trying to pull something away obstructing his breathing. His lips form words, but there's no sound. Unexpectedly and genuinely worrying me, he stops breathing and seems to suffocate. "Bucky, wake up. You're having a nightmare. Wake up, you need to breathe." I'm tempted to shake him till he wakes up, but that might be the wrong thing to do.

Instead, I move him back into my arms, stroke his hair in a way that I know soothes him, and tell him again, "Bucky, listen to me. You need to breathe. You need to breathe!" He doesn't seem to hear me though and he's growing motionless in my arms. "Damn it, Buck, don't do this!" Left with no choice, I pull him into a sitting position and gently shake him, hoping it will pull him from his nightmare. "Bucky, wake up damn it!"

Suddenly his eyes open and they speak of unfathomable pain. He struggles and then manages to take in a deep breath, which causes him to cough. He returns to clawing his mouth, like something is keeping him from breathing properly. "Bucky, look at me, focus!" I take hold of his hands and force them around my waist instead. I don't want him to accidently hurt himself. "Bucky, focus! Here!"

Bucky looks dazed, but finally manages to make eye contact. I need to find out what happened just now so I can prevent it from happening again. But first, I need to reassure him. "Bucky, look at me. Breathe in and out. In and out, yes, that's it. In and out. Yeah, like that. Breathe in and out." I keep it up until I'm sure his breathing is evening out. What the hell happened?

"I'm… still breathing… I can… still breathe…"

Bucky sounds so broken it hurts just to listen to him. "Yeah, you can breathe. You had a nightmare, didn't you?" If I can, I'm going to get him to talk. Burying this deep inside won't work, not with Bucky. "Don't forget to breathe, Buck. Just keep breathing, in and out, in and out." I go back to coaching him for a few more minutes. Whatever that nightmare was about, it was crippling, leaving him unable to breathe.

"Not a nightmare…" Bucky manages eventually once he calms down. "A memory."

I swallow nervously. What kind of memory can do that to him? I place my hands at either side of his head and notice the fine gleam of cold sweat on his skin. I pull up the comforter so he won't get cold and pull him against me while slowly lowering him onto the mattress. "Comfortable?" Bucky moves about and then rests his head on my chest, his hand cautiously reaching for mine. I curl my fingers around it and notice the tremors that shake it. His left hand has turned into a fist, the segments in his arms tightened and it looks uncomfortable. It seems paralyzed, frozen in shock.

"What did you remember? Why couldn't you breathe? You were clawing at your mouth…" A thought suddenly occurs to me. "Was it due to that mask? That muzzle?" Bucky shivers against me and moves closer still. I don't want to force him, but talking about it might help, I'm convinced of that. Bucky remains quiet and I doubt he'll tell me, but then he suddenly draws in a deep breath and starts talking.

"It happened the first time they took me out of cryo. I didn't know about Hydra at that point. I was trying to understand what was happening and what they had done to my left arm."

His voice sounds surprisingly steady, but I'm convinced telling me is hard on him. He's trying to act tough, but I'm not buying it; he's shaking himself to pieces in my arms.

"I didn't want to listen to my handler. I didn't even know he was my handler, or what a handler was. I just wanted out. I wanted to get back to you and our buddies. Hydra had different ideas though."

His voice suddenly cracks and I rub his back in soothing circles. "What did they do?"

"We were at their base in Siberia and it gets very cold in that part of the world. They took me outside, and when they found the lake was frozen, they searched for an open spot and threw me in. They had just taken me out of cryo and I had no idea what was happening. My lungs were still trying to adapt to breathing on their own and…"

I palm his face in my hand and lift his head, only to find he's crying. "Bucky…" Damn it, I don't want to hurt him, but he needs to talk about it. "What happened next?"

"Not much…" Bucky closes his eyes, clearly struggling with carrying on. "I was on my back and they pushed me under… I couldn't breathe and tried to fight them, but the water… it was so fucking cold and it was dark and…" Bucky struggles on with tears dripping down his face. "I simply couldn't breathe. They didn't allow me onto the surface until I passed out and stopped breathing. Then they would pull me from the water and forced me to breathe. Once I did, they threw me back in and it started all over again. I don't know how long it lasted… When they finally dragged me back to the base the sun was rising and I... I was barely alive."

Telling me took a lot out of him, but it needed to come out in the open. "Thanks for telling me," I start. "That must have been horrible. It never happened to me, so I can't say that I understand what you went through, but I know it must have been devastating." I gently wipe away his tears and Bucky moves out of my hold and onto his back. He stares at the ceiling, looking lost. "Do you dream that often?"

"Not that often, not anymore. Lately, I dream about our fight on the helicarrier. I kill you in my dreams – over and over again. I don't stop. I fail to remember you and I crack open your skull with my bare hands."

Although I dislike hearing that, I'm thrilled that he's telling me. I need him to be honest with me, because only then do I know what I'm up against. "Bucky, look at me." He reluctantly complies and turns his head toward me, looking at me apprehensively. "I'm still alive, yes? I'm here with you. You stopped, and even more importantly, you saved me. You pulled me from that river. You didn't kill me. Just look at me. I'm here, holding you." I rest my hand on his abdomen and rub his skin through the fabric of his shirt. "Those nightmare will eventually go away, I'm convinced of it. And if it that last one returns, you only need to look at me, and then you'll realize that it was just a bad dream."

"A bad dream," Bucky repeats in a dazed voice. "Do you really believe that?"

"I'm here, am I not?" I curl my fingers around his and squeeze gently. "Do you feel that?" I continue to worry about his left arm though; it looks uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I do, but…"

"No but," I tell him decisively. "I'm here because you saved me. You're my hero," I add and smile affectionately at him. His breathing has settled down, and although he appears relaxed, he also looks deadly tired. I can't ask him to go back to sleep – not after what happened just now. "We can watch some television," I suggest. "Maybe it will distract you." At the same time I reach for the bottled water and offer it to him. Belatedly I realize that I have to let go of his right hand for him to be able to drink. Bucky sips slowly and doubt moves into his eyes. Then I recall his odd reaction to the television being on earlier.

"Please don't."

His pleading tone gets to me. "Why's that? You didn't like the television being on earlier."

"It's a trigger," Bucky says shakily. "I remember the first time I switched one on. I had no idea what would happen, but the sound…especially when the volume is high and there are a lot of flashes on screen… It triggers the flashbacks. It reminds me of…"

And then he shuts down. He stops talking, terminates eye contact, and closes his eyes. He rests his head against my shoulder and his breathing speeds up again. That was never my intention, but Bucky providing me with more information helps. I think I figured out what's going on. Those Hydra reports mentioned a machine they used to wipe his mind. Part of the wipe consisted of bombarding him with light. The television probably mirrors that procedure. "I get it; no television." I need to find a different way to distract him then. "How about I make up a story?"

To my relief and joy Bucky suddenly chuckles. "Yeah, you used to make up the stories in the past, I know that, but let me try my hand at it. Maybe I'm good at it too."

"We're not heading back to Mars, are we?"

"No, not this time. How about Coney Island?"

"That's not a story – that happened."

"Hey, you haven't heard it yet! Give me a chance!" I'm immensely relieved we're bantering again. For some time I worried I wouldn't be able to pull him back from the edge.

"I'll listen, but I can tell you're going to suck at it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence! Now listen. Once upon a time in a land far, far, away, there was an amusement park called Coney Island and our heroes, two sixteen year old boys, lied to their parents so they could go there. They'll be so grounded when they're discovered."

"We never were discovered!" Bucky objects. "I got us home without anyone noticing we snuck out!"

"You're right, but this is a fantasy, remember? A story, not reality." I watch him closely and he finally seems able to relax. I know I'm doing a good job when the fingers of his left hand suddenly relax. The segments open up and he's able to move that arm again. If it keeps his anxiety level down, I'll make up stories for the rest of the night.

0000

It turns out that I only needed to keep up the story telling up for ten minutes. He falls asleep the moment I buy us hotdogs, and I continue a little longer, hoping the sound of my voice will soothe him. I didn't expect him to fall asleep that quickly, but maybe telling me about the trauma helped. I stroke his hair and find Frenchie curled up against Bucky's back. The dog is awake, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he seems worried. Well, I have little experience with dogs. Maybe Frenchie senses Bucky is in a bad way.

I learned so much about Bucky that my head is reeling. The things Hydra put him through… It's disgusting. How can anyone treat another human being like that? No wonder he has nightmares about that. And I bet it's only the tip of the iceberg. A lot more of that nasty stuff is hiding beneath the surface. But I won't desert him. I never will. My fingers find their way beneath his shirt and rub his back, as I'm trying my hardest to offer him a measure of peace and safety. "You belong with me and I'm keeping you, no matter what."

0000

I continue to hold him for another hour. It's ten in the morning and I need to get up soon. I'm hungry and I really need to visit the bathroom. Looking at Bucky, I'm relieved he got six more hours of undisturbed sleep. If that nightmare hadn't happened, he would have slept through the night. I'm content though with the amount of rest he got.

I know Bucky well enough to realize that he'll feel awkward if he wakes up in my arms after a night like that. He'll need to collect himself and to deal with what happened before he can face me. I decide to make things easy on him. I carefully loosen my hold on him and slide out of the bed. I tuck the comforter into place around him and watch Frenchie eagerly usurp my place, snuggling up to Bucky.

After a quick stop at the bathroom, I put on my jeans, and pick up the key to Bucky's apartment. I collect everything I need for breakfast and quickly return to my place since it's bitterly cold in Bucky's apartment. I put everything onto the counter and kitchen table and start with making coffee. Its aroma will probably wake him up and I'm fine with that. He needs to eat anyways.

Five minutes later, there's movement in bed. Bucky is waking up, just as I expected he would. I start whistling; it is something I did when we were young and hopefully hearing it will reassure him. While I pour coffee for myself, I fill his mug with hot milk and add a little honey. I put it on the kitchen table and struggle with the bread again. Now that it is no longer fresh, it's a bit easier to cut off slices, but it's still a struggle. I put the rest of the food onto the table and sit down, nursing my coffee and watching from a distance.

He puts his feet onto the floor and sits up. His shoulders are slumped, his head bowed, and he uses his hair to shield his face from me. I don't act; I simply wait for him to make the next move. Bucky slowly gets to his feet, steadies himself by placing a hand against the wall, and then takes a hesitant step away from the bed. Frenchie jumps onto the floor and follows him, carefully monitoring him.

Eventually he sits down and buries his face in his hands, still avoiding eye contact. I sip from my coffee and tell him, "Drink your milk before it cools down. I added honey, just the way you like it." Bucky lowers his arms but still doesn't look at me. He probably expects me to bombard him with questions about last night. That's the last thing on my mind though.

Bucky slowly wraps his left hand around the mug, but he doesn't lift it. I wonder if he's actually awake; he looks like he's sleepwalking. Maybe it's just a lingering effect of that flashback. He looks dazed; like he doesn't know where he is and what's happening around him. "Bucky, do you remember me? You know who you are and where we are, don't you?" I need to make sure his memory is still intact. Bucky seems to shrink within himself and then nods slowly.

"I remember you. I know who I am and where we are…" He grows silent again and carefully sips from his hot milk. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry."

He keeps his head down and stares at his mug, doing everything he can so he doesn't have to look at me. He probably feels insecure, but there's no reason for him to apologize. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Buck. Don't worry about it. I'm glad I could help."

"But I ruined your sleep," Bucky whispers, still keeping his head down.

He looks defeated and I don't like it. Carefully I reach for his right hand and slowly wrap my fingers around it. Bucky gasps and lifts his head, finally looking at me. "You have a perfectly valid reason to experience nightmares or flashbacks, Buck. I know that and I want to be there for you. It's the very reason why I went after you. I don't want you going through this on your own. I'm here for you. You just need to let me in."

"I don't deserve that… I don't deserve you… I'm not worth all this."

I briefly close my eyes and try to rein in my rage directed at Hydra who did this to him. They turned the sweetest guy in the world into this. Once I feel in control of my emotions, I open my eyes, and look at him again. Bucky seems unsure of himself, ready to run if necessary. What I do next will define our future relationship. This is it.

"You're worth everything to me, don't you know that? I searched the world for you so I could be there for you. Doesn't that tell you how much I care about you? How important you are to me? No one's forcing me to stay with you. I want this, because you're worth it. You're my best friend and I love you."

Bucky grows flustered. He briefly looks away, but then makes eye contact again. He looks like he has a hard time believing me. "You know I'm not lying. You can tell when I try to bend the truth and this isn't one of those times. I'm being honest. Bucky, I want this. I want to be there for you." The expression in Bucky's eyes changes, slowly, but certainly. A shy smile surfaces on his face and he gives a playful tug at my hand, demanding my attention.

"You're a punk," he whispers insecurely.

"And you're a jerk," I return the sentiment, smiling along. "But you're my jerk." I think I just passed a test – one of many, and I'm determined to pass them all. I will never let him down again – never!

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

"Why don't you take a quick shower while I clean up in here?"

I arch an eyebrow, recalling I showered only last night. "Is that your way of telling me that I stink?" Steve might be right though; I always wake up covered in cold sweat.

"Not really, but it might refresh you."

I know he means well, but I must decline. The mere thought of water running down my body causes me to grow nauseous. I would probably have another flashback about them drowning me in that lake. "Maybe later." Steve gives me an odd look, but then he seems to catch on and nods. He's getting to know me too well. Why did I tell him that in the first place? I should have kept it to myself instead. "Maybe we can go for a walk with Frenchie?" I yearn to breathe in some fresh air and I need to be in the open.

"Sure, we will do that. Get ready then. Do you mind picking up my stuff at the hotel later? I need clothes; I can't wear yours all the time."

I only now notice him wearing one of my t-shirts. I must really have been out of it last night. "No problem," I tell him. "But later on, I have to check on the tenants. Some might have a problem which I need to fix." I wonder what he thinks of me, being degraded to a handyman and caretaker. It's a deep fall from being a commando. Steve merely smiles though.

"Just let me know if I can help."

I doubt I will need his help, but I nod anyway, knowing he won't take a no for an answer.

0000

Frenchie is ecstatic about being back in the park. I'm not in the mood to play fetch and Steve seems rather thoughtful, so Frenchie ends up at my feet, slumbering in the sun. He seems content and if I'm not mistaken, he's gaining weight and his coat looks fuller and healthier.

"I need to tell you something," Steve says calmly.

I look at him, and although my heart sped up at hearing that, it slows down again at seeing that particular look in his eyes. It's nothing serious. It's nothing threatening. "Then spill it." I hate it when people aren't direct.

"I had help finding you. Do you remember our fight on the bridge? The two people in the car with me helped me find you."

I'm not surprised to hear it. I doubt Steve would have found me without Romanoff's intel. "I remember them."

"Nat pulled some strings and got me Hydra's file on you. The three of us then looked for clues telling us about your whereabouts. It was one of her contacts who recognized you when you went shopping. He contacted her and we flew in."

Again, I'm not surprised to hear they are here. Steve is foremost a team player. He wouldn't leave them behind. "And they are staying at your hotel?" Steve nods, merely confirming my suspicions. Actually this conversation gives me an opening I've been waiting for. "Is Shield going to come for me? Do they want me dead?"

"No, you don't have to worry about Shield. They know Hydra used you. Shield knows Hydra pulled all the strings. Knowing the people in charge, I suspect they would back you up if something bad happened."

Steve suddenly looks at me and his hand reaches for mine, claiming it.

"I don't think that you have to worry about Hydra either. Do you know we took them out right after our fight? Nat secured a lot of Hydra's data and it supplied us with their names. Most of Hydra's agents have been arrested. Alexander Pierce is dead."

I can't suppress the violent shudder running through me at hearing that name. Steve noticed, judging by the way he moves closer and rubs my fingers. "That name is another trigger…" I tell him, hoping Steve understands what it means. Pierce was a fucking bastard who delighted in torturing me. "Don't talk about him if you don't want me to freak out on you, for it will happen."

"I'll not use that name again. But do you know that he's dead?"

"I read something about it in a newspaper. I find it difficult to believe though. He's hard to kill. Are you absolutely sure he's dead? Did you see his corpse?" I need more proof than some article in a newspaper. Hydra often used the media to its advantage and the world believing he's dead would enable him to move underground and scheme from the background.

"Fury shot him – right through the heart. P… He died within seconds. Nat was there and witnessed it. I believe her. She has no reason to lie to me."

"Fury?" The name means something to me. "Wasn't he a target? I thought I'd had killed him?" I'm a good shot. I know I nailed him!

"Yeah, you did, but he survived. He stayed off the grid for a while so he could take down Hydra who had infiltrated Shield. For example, Rumlow who worked for Shield, had quickly become HIS right hand man. We needed to be careful and couldn't work in the open."

"Crossbones…" I remember him. I also recall the odd look in his eyes when Pierce ordered my handlers to wipe my mind and to prep me. I thought I had seen pity in Rumlow's eyes. I can't be sure of course, but he looked disgusted by that suggestion. Although he supported Hydra, I had the feeling that he didn't always agree with some methods Hydra used to achieve their goals. I might be mistaken though. I was hardly sane at that time. Not that I'm sane now, but I have a better handle on it, or at least, that's what I tell myself.

"Does he call himself that nowadays? I didn't know that."

Steve's voice sounds odd and I force myself to make eye contact again. He looks hurt; why? Because I freed my hand of his hold? There are moments when I can't bear being touched. It brings back memories which I'd rather forget. I focus on our conversation again. "About your friends?" Steve nods. "I don't think it's wise for me to run into them. They're probably still pissed about what happened on that bridge." I can't blame them. I still recall the stricken look on Wilson's face when I ripped that steering wheel from the dashboard. I also shot Romanoff. I know what she is like and she doesn't forgive easily. We had dealings before…

"They know it was Hydra controlling you. They don't blame you. Nat knows what it is like to be under mind control. She experienced it recently when one of our newest recruits was still working for the enemy. It shook her up pretty bad. And Sam, Sam will probably give you hell for scaring him like that, but he's all bark and no bite."

I'd like to believe it, but I doubt they'd forgive me that easily. "Still, it would be best to keep us apart."

"What are you scared of?"

Steve suddenly moves closer and looks at me from up close. He looks puzzled. It's beyond me why he doesn't get it. "I tried to kill them, Steve. I actually shot Romanoff. Do you really believe they'll just forget about that?"

"I didn't tell you Nat's last name," Steve says thoughtfully.

Fuck, I gave myself away. There's no way out; I'd better come clean. "I remember her from a past mission. I shot right through her to get to my target."

"Yes, she told me."

Steve's calm response stuns me. "And you still think us meeting is a good idea?"

"Yes, I do. Give it a try? I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't believe it would work out. Just think about it and let me know when we arrive at the hotel."

I'll think about it, but I still consider it a dangerous plan.

0000

Since none of the tenants needed my help, I find myself sitting in a cab an hour later, on route to Steve's hotel. Steve is smiling at me and giving me a hopeful look. I know what he hopes my answer will be, but I'm still undecided.

"Do you mind me giving them a call to tell them that we're on our way?"

I wonder why he keeps asking me stuff like that. If he wants to call them, he should. "I don't mind." I'm too busy wondering how he managed to talk me into coming along. What am I doing here when I could have been hiding at home instead? It's so typical of Steve to drag me along. It also used to be like that when we were young. We were seldom apart and his mum always had trouble separating us. She would send me home and I'd pretend to leave, only to sneak back in through the window Steve always left open for me.

"Hey guys, it's me. Hello, Sam, is Nat there too? She is? That's perfect. Where are you?"

Judging from his jovial tone they have become good friends, but then again, it's easy to be friends with Steve. He's easy going and incredibly loyal.

"You're still at the hotel? We're on our way there now… Yes, Bucky is coming along. I told him about you and Nat. He knows you have our back."

That's new to me. I thought they merely tagged along to help Steve, not to get actively involved in case something happens. But then again, maybe I'm reading too much into it.

"Hold on, I need to ask him something."

Steve gives me that look again and he knows it will make me give in. "Fine," I tell him. "I'll behave, but don't expect me to be social."

"Oh, you heard that? Don't take it personal though. We had a rough night… Yes, we'll meet you in the foyer… Nat got my luggage ready to go? That's perfect. See you soon!"

Steve ends the call and gives me a brilliant smile. I hate it when he looks at me like that. It always make me weak in the knees. "What?" I bark at him.

"You'll get along, don't worry. And then we'll head back home. Don't worry about it."

That's easy for him to say; he didn't try to kill them.

0000

I feel out of place when I walk into the posh hotel. I would never have picked it; it draws too big a crowd and the staff always pays you attention. I would have used a motel where you're anonymous and no one cares about your name. I see them at once. They're sitting down in the back and enjoying their coffee. I'd rather hang back and watch from afar, but I promised Steve to try, and so I will.

"Nat! Sam! We're here!"

I shake my head and wonder how Steve manages to survive. By calling out to them he instantly draws attention to his person and to me as well. I put up my collar and move my cap deeper into my face so my features remain hidden from view. If he plans on staying with me, I have to talk to him about security matters.

Romanoff gestures for us to join them. I'd rather not, but I promised, damn it. I need to find a way to deal with that puppy dog look Steve always gives me.

"Sit down! Do you want something too?" She gestures at her drinks.

"Coffee please," Steve says and one of the waiters, laying in wait, scribbles down the order. "How about you, Buck?"

I really don't want anything, but I know Steve will whine if I decline the offer. "Coffee too," I whisper, keeping down my voice and trying to meld with the background so no one notices me.

"I'll be right back," the waiter says and then leaves us.

I wonder how unpleasant things are going to be. Unlike Steve I don't believe they'll forgive me that easily. You simply don't forgive the guy who tried to kill you.

"Barnes," Romanoff says and nods. "You're a hard man to find."

I reckon that's a compliment coming from her. That woman has a fine reputation and I'm on guard. I don't reply. I keep quiet and simply watch her. I want to be ready in case she decides to launch an attack.

"She's right," Wilson says. "But I'm glad we managed to locate you in the end."

Wilson tries to make eye contact, but I look away. I'm not going to provoke any of them.

"Tough guy to talk to, I get it."

Wilson has no idea. Our coffee arrives and I take hold of it, sipping slowly. In public I always make sure to wear gloves; even if it looks odd, it hides my bionic arm. That would draw even more attention to my person. I lock out the three of them and study the people close to us. There are some hotel guests, waiters, and the hotel staff at the reception desk. No one is paying us any attention and I'm fairly sure they have no clue who we are. That's the beauty of Bucharest. Most people here aren't interested in you and keep to themselves. Steve moves a duffle bag over to his chair. Apparently, he still travels light.

"I'll be in touch. Nat, Sam, you really don't have to stay on my account. Bucky and I will be fine."

Hearing him say my name still feels odd. Hearing him say it in public, addressing his friends, feels even weirder. For a long time I had no idea who I was. I had no idea who Bucky Barnes was and when the memories started to return, I had a hard time accepting I had once been him. I'm not sure who I am these days, but it's not that Bucky of old.

Steve gets to his feet, swings his duffle bag over his shoulder, and I stand next to him, hoping we're finally leaving. I don't like being scrutinized, and although the two of them aren't too obvious about it, I can tell they're evaluating me, trying to figure out if I'm a danger to Steve. I wouldn't put it past Romanoff to take me out if she thinks I'm a hazard to Steve.

"It was good meeting you," Wilson says, trying again. "I'm glad we don't have to be secretive about this anymore. Steve didn't like it one bit."

Hearing that doesn't surprise me. Steve is terrible at keeping secrets; he always was. This must have been eating at him right from the start.

"Barnes, I'm not the enemy, no matter what you think."

Romanoff's trying to gain my trust, but she can forget about that. I don't trust anyone, except for Steve that is. I don't even trust myself. Impatiently, I look at Steve. "Are we ready to go?" I want out. I feel cornered as I don't know the hotel's layout and therefore I have no idea where a possible attack will come from and how to escape.

"Yeah, we're leaving. Guys, we'll talk on the phone later. Thanks for everything."

After Steve said goodbye to them we move toward the exit. Finally – I was running out of patience. I want to go home where I feel safe.

0000

"That went well, don't you think?" Steve says as he puts down his duffle bag. We headed for his apartment, since it's a cold and windy day, and at his place, the heating is on. Now that the days are growing short, my apartment will grow cold too. I must admit that I'm happy to be able to warm up at his place. I look about, wondering what to do. Frenchie is snuggling in front of the radiator, smart dog.

I feel strangely inhibited to act like I'm at home. This isn't my apartment. So I keep standing in the living room, watching Steve unpack and put everything away. It's clothes mostly and some toiletries. And then there's his shield. I didn't think he would bring it along, since he wants to keep a low profile. I stare at it; it's scratched and battered, but still a formidable weapon; one that I used against him. Steve puts it next to the bed and then joins me. He ends up standing in front of me and cocking his head inquisitively. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Actually, I'm really pleased with how that first meeting went. I'm relieved that I don't have to hide this from you anymore. You know how bad I am with keeping secrets. Also, I want you to know that you have allies in the city. If something bad happens and we get separated, you can always turn to them for help. They won't turn you down."

Does he really believe that? I doubt they'll risk their lives for me. Why would they?

"You have the strangest look in your eyes, Buck."

Steve suddenly moves closer and lifts his arms, wrapping them loosely around me. I can't stop myself from tensing up. It'll take me a long time to get used to anyone touching me, let alone holding me.

"How about a little nap? Are you tired? You look sleepy."

"I don't want to sleep." My nightmares haunt me day and night and I don't want to fall victim to them yet.

"We can take Frenchie for another walk in the park," Steve suggests.

"Have you looked outside yet?" We had barely entered the building when it started to rain heavily. Looking out of the window, I find that there's a thunderstorm moving toward us. I hate fucking thunderstorms. They always mess with my head.

Steve looks outside too and his face contorts. "You're right. We'll have to postpone that walk. Why don't you get comfortable on the couch and I make us some coffee?"

I shake my head. "No more coffee." Caffeine is one of the few things that really messes up my system. It tends to make me nervous, which is not a good thing when you're already worrying about a thunderstorm causing flashbacks.

"How about hot chocolate? I think I saw some cacao powder in one of the cupboards and we have milk anyways."

He knows I love hot milk and hot chocolate is another favorite. "That sounds nice," I admit, at which Steve releases me and shoos me toward the living room. I remove my coat, put my boots to the side, and sit down on the couch. Frenchie gives me a contented look, but doesn't move. He's much too comfortable that close to the radiator. I pull a cushion into my arms and try to lock out the upcoming thunderstorm. I hope it won't cause another flashback. I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. When is this going to end? Why can't Hydra leave me alone?

"Hot chocolate," Steve announces as he puts the mugs onto the coffee table.

I reach for one, but then realize I'm still wearing gloves. I remove them, put them on the coffee table, and wrap the fingers of my left hand around the mug. It's still too hot, so I blow onto the surface in order to cool it. At the same time, I keep an eye out on the weather. The wind and rain are gaining in intensity. It's going to be another one of those typical autumn storms that we've been having lately. That means hanging on by the skin of my teeth and hoping it won't trigger my memories.

"What's wrong? You're trembling like mad."

Steve will find out sooner than later, especially with that storm still growing in strength. It's probably best I come clean now so he knows what to expect. I take a deep breath and then plunge ahead. "It's the thunderstorm. The lightning…" I swallow nervously as just talking about it brings it closer to the surface. "The light… the unexpected flashes, they… bring it all back." I don't want to be a constant burden. Steve will eventually get tired of me being unable to deal with such situations. It's just a fucking thunderstorm for crying out loud! It shouldn't be such a big deal to me!

"Maybe we should close the curtains then? It might dull the light a bit," Steve suggests.

"I don't think it will help, but go ahead and try." Most of the time the thunderstorms took me by surprise, crippling me before I could act. Steve gets to his feet and closes all curtains. Next he switches on the lights in the living room. I must admit it creates a different atmosphere and locks out the storm for now.

"I found some board games in one closet. Maybe playing a game will distract you?"

I doubt it will, but I don't want to disappoint Steve. "Sure, we can try." Steve gets to his feet, rummages in one of the large closets, and returns with a board game. "Ludo? You're mad." I never beat him during that game before. I don't know how he does it, but he always wins. Steve sits down on the floor, clears the coffee table, and readies everything for the game. I follow his example and move onto the floor too, sitting cross legged.

Thunder, loud and increasingly closing in, echoes through the building and makes me cringe. I close my eyes, knowing lighting will follow quickly. Closing my eyes doesn't always work. Sometimes it makes it worse.

"Here, you start."

Steve hands me the dice and I stare at in disbelief. Are we really doing this? We played the game as kids, time and time again, because Stevie was so damn fond of it, but this is different. I'm about to seriously freak out now that the storm is moving closer and all he thinks of is playing Ludo?

In the end, I throw the dice and move my token forward. Steve doesn't waste any time and starts chasing it on the board. I never figured out how he does it, why he always wins, and I don't expect this game to be any different. A minute later, he knocks one of my tokens out of the game and cries out victoriously. It's amazing. It's like the old Stevie is back and we're ten years old again.

An extremely violent burst of lightning suddenly illuminates the whole room. The thunder that sounds seconds later must have impacted somewhere judging from the intensity. It sounds like it hit a target. The storm hangs right over the apartment and I find it hard to suppress my memories of being restrained. The machine, already circling me with those arms is ready to close its embrace and torture me.

My eyes burst open the moment Steve settles down next to me and wraps his arms around me. He pulls me close and guides my head against his shoulder. "What happened to playing Ludo and beating me at the game?" I manage with great effort. I don't want to fall apart in front of him. If only I could get that machine out of my head, then I might manage my emotions. Another flash of lighting lights up the room and I grab on tight, holding onto Steve for dear life. "I'm sorry about this," I whisper, counting in order to find out if the storm is moving away.

"Don't, I'm grateful you're allowing me to support you. You could have rejected me instead, but you didn't. Let me do this for you."

Considering the way I'm clinging to him, he should realize that pushing him away is the last thing on my mind. I rest my head against his shoulder and hold on now that the storm is at its most intense. "I hate this," I admit, whispering into his ear.

"I hate what Hydra did to you, but never this."

Steve stresses his statement by rubbing my back and pressing a kiss onto my hair. The guy is mad to care that much about me. "Stevie?"

"Yes, Buck?

"Thanks for coming after me. It helps, having you here. I need you." Admitting that is difficult, but I want him to know he makes a difference. Without him, I would probably be hiding under the bed, covering my ears the best I could, and sinking into a swamp of horrid memories.

"I need you too, Bucky. After learning you were still alive, finding you and holding you in my arms again became top priorities. I've been lonely since you left. Sure, I have friends, but you're… you're more than that. You are the other half of my soul."

Those are pretty big words and I wonder what prompted them. I lift my head a little to check out his expression and he looks sad. I might be mistaken but he looks like he about to shed some tears – about me? Am I that important to him? "Stevie?" Is there something he isn't telling me? Maybe something he isn't aware of himself?

"Bucky, I…"

Steve looks incredibly insecure, though I have no idea why. "What aren't you telling me?" I don't think he's hiding something from me on purpose. He just seems terribly uncertain. Steve opens his mouth as if to speak, but then he closes it again and leans in closer instead. Suddenly those lips press against mine in a tender kiss.

A kiss? He's kissing me? That move stuns me… but then again… maybe it doesn't stun me as much as it should. We have always been close, maybe even too close for being just friends. Still, this is unexpected and I forget everything around me. Is there a thunderstorm going on? What storm? Lightning? I don't even register it anymore. All I can think of is Steve is kissing me.

A moment later, he pulls away and blushes veraciously. He averts his gaze, stares at the wall, and a lost expression appears on his face.

"I probably shouldn't have done that," Steve says softly. "I don't know why I did that. I never planned it. It just happened. I'm sorry…"

He's sorry for kissing me? "Stevie…" I rest my hands at either side of his face and turn his head so he has to face me. "I'm not complaining about that kiss, it's welcome, but… tell me, why? Why did you kiss me?" Steve looks confused when he finally makes eye contact. I'm under the impression he doesn't know what to make of his action. He can be rather impulsive, I know that.

"I…" Steve searches for the right words, but then gives up and sighs deeply. "It felt like the right thing to do. I love holding you, having you close, and when you looked that sad, I had to cheer you up, distract you… Hell, I don't know! I just wanted to kiss you and so I did! I've wanted to do so for a lifetime, but I was always too much of a coward to bring it up! I wasted so much time because I lacked the courage to…"

Steve got louder during his speech and he's blushing to the roots of his hair. He gives me a defiant look, which is strangely pleading at the same time. It's typically Steve, I reckon. Maybe I'm the one only who thinks of him as reckless and impulsive; I don't know what his friends think he's like, but Steve doesn't always consider his actions first.

"Steve, what are you really trying to tell me?" I think I know what's going on, but he needs to say it, for both our sakes. Steve swallows nervously and cringes. He's still hesitant to make eye contact, so I tilt my head and seek out his gaze instead. "You can tell me," I say encouragingly.

"I always lacked the courage to tell you that I love you," Steve says, rushing the words. "The time never seemed right. I've been in love with you forever. I must have been fifteen or sixteen when I started to fantasy about you in a sexual way. I wasn't interested in pin ups or girls – just you. Later, you enlisted and I had resigned myself to my fate – namely that I would never see you again. Erskine then offered me the serum and I took it."

He seems to grow a bit more confident during his speech and gives me an apologetic smile.

"I debated telling you after I got you out of Zola's hell hole, but you seemed different – distant and unreachable. Looking back at it, I know you were suffering from what Zola had done to you. Telling you I loved you didn't seem the right thing to do, so I told myself to be patient and to wait."

"I was in a bad way at that time," I admit. "I didn't want you to know that though. I slept badly due to the nightmares and flashbacks. I felt sorry for ruining your sleep all the time. Later, I wondered why you stuck around, but then the train accident happened."

Steve nods and gives me a melancholy look. "You have no idea how much I beat myself up for being unable to save you. The fact that I had never told you that I loved you, also ate away at me. I became reckless. Peggy tried to provide me with some emotional support, but I never let her in. My heart already belonged to you – it still does."

"Stevie…" I shake my head at him. "I always knew you cared a great deal about me, but… this…" Steve is in love with me. Has been in love with me forever. "You can do so much better. Why settle for me? I'm damaged goods in so many ways. Do you really want –"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it. Stop putting yourself down. You survived seventy years of torture and are still fighting back. Give yourself some credit for that!"

Steve actually sounds angry and looks offended. "I'm sorry," I offer, "But it's not that easy for me. I don't see myself as a hero, although you obviously do."

"Bucky?"

Steve caresses my face and moves some of my unruly hair behind an ear. The expression in his eyes has changed ever so slightly and it puts me on guard. "Yes?"

"How do you feel about me? Do you have any feelings for me? I don't want to pressure you, and I'll accept whatever answer you give me… but I'm curious."

Fuck, he had to ask, didn't he? I wonder if the panic which I feel also shows on my face. What the hell am I going to tell him? The truth? Or lies?

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

I can't believe I did that. I cracked; gave into my feelings and I told him. I wish I could take it back, because the expression in his eyes worries me. But wait, no, I don't want to take it back. At least now it's out in the open and he knows I love him. I doubt I would have managed to keep it a secret much longer. Being in such close proximity all the time I would have slipped up and he would have realized it at any rate. Maybe it's better that I told him – AFTER I kissed him. I groan. How stupid can I be? I kissed him – just like that. At least he didn't push me away, but he didn't answer the kiss either. Maybe I surprised him? It's no use; I'm merely driving myself mad.

"Stevie, I…"

Bucky's bionic fingers gently caress my face. I never considered him having that much sensation in his left arm. "Buck, I…" But Bucky shakes his head and places his fingers over my lips, effectively shutting me up. It's his turn, but I'm not sure I want to hear what he has to say. He still looks dazed.

"You must understand; I've only been thinking about survival lately, even when you suddenly showed up, I never considered you having that kind of feelings for me. We never talked about that before and I assumed we were just friends. This is totally unexpected; especially considering the way I am these days. No, listen, don't be impatient. Let me tell you at my own pace."

I deserve that little chiding. I always tend to push him and seldom give him the time he needs. I won't make that mistake this time. I'm just going to listen. So far he hasn't told me that he doesn't return my feelings so I hold on to hope.

"I seriously believe that this is a mistake. Hydra damaged me beyond repair and I will always carry those scars with me. Hopefully I'll have more good than bad days in the end, but for now, I'm still fighting for my sanity. And then you tell me you're in love with me. I'm not quite sure what to think about your timing."

I never planned on telling him. I never considered timing that admission. It just happened; it needed out for crying out loud!

"Yeah, I know, you never thought it through. It's a good thing I know that about you."

I smile at him. "You know what I am like. Rash."

"Yeah, I do."

Bucky's expression becomes thoughtful. Then he closes those blues for a moment, and when he looks at me next, he seems determined. This is it. He's going to tell me what will happen next.

"It looks like we fell in love around the same time. I was sixteen too, when you started to show up in my dreams at night. Wet dreams, I should probably add. I didn't know what to think about that at first. You were my best friend, and I always thought I was attracted to girls. You know what things were like back then. Gays were considered freaks of nature and you didn't want anyone to think you were a homosexual, hence the large number of double dates I arranged for the two of us."

To my shame I must admit that I stopped listening right after he said that he had wet dreams about me when he was sixteen. This is going to end well. He loves me back. I just know it!

"Steve, I had a hard time admitting the truth to myself. That truth being that I was hopelessly in love with you. When Zola conducted his experiments on me, thinking of you was the one thing that pulled me through. I always hoped – against all odds – that we would meet again. And I promised myself that I would tell you then. I didn't want to die without you knowing the truth."

Wow, in a way our stories are remarkably similar. If only I'd had the guts to tell him! We could have been together back then!

"But then Zola happened." Bucky continues and shivers violently.

I return to rubbing his back. I hate seeing him in such emotional distress. If I could, I would kill Zola all over again, slowly and painfully.

"After that I felt… dirty, damaged. I felt guilty about what happened."

I'm about to ask him what exactly Zola did to him, but he shakes his head, having already caught on.

"Another time. Not right now."

"Fine," I tell him. "You decide what to tell me and when. I won't pressure you." That's the last thing he needs, someone pushing him over the edge. He needs silent support instead.

"I abandoned the idea of telling you. It's like you said… I kept you at a distance for a purpose. I was afraid you'd find out about my feelings for you and I didn't want to drag you down with me. I wanted you to find happiness with Peggy instead. She was so very right for you, but you wouldn't make a move. That was fucking frustrating."

"I cared a lot about her," I explain to him, "But I didn't love her the way I love you. That's why I never made a move. I liked flirting with her, but… After losing you, she was all I had left. But I wasn't romantically interested in her. She was a soul mate, but you… you…" My voice fails me and I swallow convulsively. "All I ever wanted was you. That's why I had no problem going down with that plane. You were dead… I had no real reason to continue living."

"Yeah, I read about that. Don't think you're off the hook yet. That was fucking irresponsible and rash! We WILL talk about that and you WILL never do something stupid like that ever again!"

I love him for lecturing me like that. Only Bucky would do so. A lot of people think of me as a hero and treat me like one. Bucky however doesn't have that problem.

"I didn't know who I was when Hydra took me out of cryo. I've done a lot of things I feel ashamed of. I killed people, Steve. Lots of them."

"That wasn't you. Hydra made you do it." Bucky is growing impatient and I know why. His scaring off tactics aren't working. I know him well enough to know he isn't giving in yet. He'll do all he can to make me reconsider being with him.

"I killed Howard and Maria Stark."

There it is; he's dropping the bomb and hoping I'll push him away and turn away from him in disgust. Too bad for him that it isn't going to work. "I know that. I read it in those reports." Bucky stares at me in disbelief. I hope he remembers to breathe.

"You knew that and you still came for me?"

"Hydra ordered you to kill them. They wiped your mind and indoctrinated you. You stood no chance. I don't blame you. I know you never wanted to kill them. You liked Howard and you were friends. Bucky, come one, you'd never hurt a woman. Howard even recognized you, did you know that?" Bucky shakes his head and his eyes mist over. This is hard on him and I hate Hydra for ever putting him in that position.

"I didn't. I don't remember much. I only know that I was riding a bike and forced their car off the road. Everything after that is a blur."

Maybe it's better he doesn't remember the details. "I want you to realize that you didn't kill them. Hydra's Winter Soldier did. If you could have stopped it, you would have done so. I know that."

"I wasn't in control of my actions. Hydra was," Bucky admits in a small voice. "But I still did it. I still killed them."

"You didn't, Bucky. Don't place that burden on your shoulders. You couldn't stop it. You just told me that yourself. You need to remember that." I wish I could take his pain away, but I can't. I can only hope that it will fade in time. Bucky remains quiet and looks defeated now that his tactic didn't work. He's not getting rid of me ever again. "Does this mean you love me back?"

"I guess so," Bucky says and sighs.

He looks absolutely miserable and I get it. I'm not offended. I'm dealing with a severely traumatized person who no longer believes he has any worth. I'll work hard on showing him differently. "That's great."

"It's not. You shouldn't pursue me. You should let it go and get your life back on track."

I can't help but smile at him. "But that's exactly what I'm doing; getting my life back on track again. It's only complete when you're in it, Buck."

"I'm officially giving up. You just won't listen to me."

"Not when you're saying the wrong things. Now tell me. I told you too. Say the words. Say those three little words." I need to lighten the mood before he gets worse. "I know you're ticklish," I hint. Belatedly I realize that the storm has moved on and that Bucky also forgot about it.

"You can't make me say it," he says stubbornly.

But I'm not fooled. His eyes contain a warmth that wasn't there before. I wiggle my fingers demonstratively. "Final warning," I hint. He knows I'll follow through as I did so in the past. I extracted many confessions from him by tickling him into submission.

Bucky sighs, rolls back his eyes, and whispers, "I love you."

It's barely audible though. "Harder, Bucky. I want to hear it." Oh, I know he already has some sort of payback planned for me which will happen the moment I least expect it, but for now, I hold all the cards and he knows it.

"I love you," he repeats, louder, and more serious this time.

I'm fine with that. "I love you too, Bucky," I reply and smile at him. I have no problems repeating that, so I tell him again. "I've loved you forever." This time it's Bucky who grows flustered. Suddenly I hear whining and I chuckle at seeing Frenchie putting his paws on Bucky's leg and trying to lick his face. "Someone's jealous," I joke.

"Looks like it." Bucky uses the distraction to shift away from me and pats the dog instead. "It's time for his walk. The storm seems to have moved away."

Looking outside, I find the sky is blue again, and yes, it stopped raining. "We'll go for a walk." I watch Bucky get to his feet and fool around with Frenchie. I'm glad we finally had that talk. We had it a long time coming, several decades actually. Now that our feelings are out in the open we can move on, at least I hope so.

0000

I enjoy watching them play. Frenchie is happy to get some exercise and Bucky is glad to be outside. The storm, and the rain that came along with it, caused the grass to grow moist and you can actually smell nature. I love it. New York is great, but I like Bucharest as well. I still don't know why he chose to hide in this city. Maybe I should find out.

My mobile phone vibrates and I uncover it. A quick look tells me it's Nat, so I answer it. "What's up?"

"Not much," she replies. "But the two of them are really having a ball."

"Where are you?" I look about, but if she wants to remain hidden, I won't find her.

"Some distance behind you. Don't look! Damn, you should know better than that!"

I grin and make sure I look straight ahead instead of looking at her from over my shoulder. "Why are you calling? Is anything wrong?"

"No, as far as we can tell you're not being followed or watched. Your buddy remains undetected, but you know that it can't last forever, right? Someone will find him."

"I know that, but I still need to talk to him about it. He likes it here and I don't want to force him to move back to the States when he isn't ready for that yet."

"I get that, Rogers, I really do. Sam just brought me lunch, so I'm hanging up on you. Talk to you soon!"

Knowing they're watching my back is reassuring. Nothing gets passed Nat; she's the best. Bucky and Frenchie are done playing and are walking up to me. Buck sits down next to me and Frenchie chases a fly who is pestering him. Although Bucky looks tired, he also seems at peace. That talk really did clear the air between us. "What are your plans for dinner?" I carefully inquire.

"Why do you ask?"

Bucky's eyes narrow, knowing I'm up to something. "Maybe we can eat out?" Bucky seems conflicted; I know he probably prefers staying at the apartment and thus hiding from view, but I want to break that circle. I want him to regain his confidence and to venture out.

"I'm not sure," Bucky says reluctantly. "What do you have in mind? Nothing fancy, you hear me? I don't have suitable clothes for that."

"How about a small Italian restaurant? We can have pizza or pasta. I'll let you pick the place." He probably needs to be in control of the situation. Maybe he knows a place he ate at before and feels comfortable at.

"There's a restaurant called Mario's. I picked up some deliveries for tenants there before. The staff's friendly and there's only one way in."

Of course he would notice something like that. "How about I treat you to dinner tonight? Maybe there will be candles and we could have some wine." Not that it affects me. Alcohol has no effect on me whatsoever. I regret that from time to time. I wish I could have gotten drunk the night I lost Bucky.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Bucky shakes his head, but he's smiling at the same time.

"Does alcohol affect you?" I'm curious and want to know. I have no idea what kind of serum Zola used on him. It might be similar to Erskine's, but I doubt that it's a hundred percent match.

"Sometimes," he admits reluctantly. "It took me a while before I figured out the deciding factor."

"Which is?" Come on, Buck, I want to know!

"My emotional state. When I'm stressed, it affects me. When I'm calm, alcohol isn't a problem."

I understand why he's hesitant to share that. "And you've been rather emotional lately," I finish for him. "So it probably affects you."

"Yeah." Bucky shrugs and looks at Frenchie, who is slumbering peacefully at his feet.

"I remember what you were like when you got tipsy back in the days." I can't recall ever having seen Buck downright drunk. He always knew when to stop. I guess, him always insisting on walking me home – in order to keep me out of fights – had something to do with that. "You always got affectionate when you had too much to drink." I actually have fond memories of those times as I sometimes managed to grope his ass and he let me get away with it. I'm not sure he ever noticed, considering he was busy telling me dirty jokes.

"I doubt I'm still like that," Bucky says cautiously. "We had better not take any chances."

"We'll see." I'm going to encourage him to have a drink, as I'm rather hoping he'll get affectionate with me all over again.

0000

Bucky is nervous. He's pulling at his shirt and I'm starting to second guess my idea to go out for dinner. I don't want him to be uncomfortable. "We can go back home, if you prefer that," I offer and slip my hand into his pocket, curling my fingers around his. Bucky looks up and pulls himself together. He manages a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, but you want to do this and you're right. I've been hiding from the world." He grows quiet and his focus shifts inwards.

I'll keep a close eye on him tonight. If he gets even more ill at ease, I'm taking him home. We arrive at the small Italian restaurant and I instantly like its intimate atmosphere. The waiter seems to know Bucky and they exchange some words in Romanian. After that, the guy leads us toward the back. We sit down at a table for two and he presents us with the menus. I wait until he's out of hearing range and ask, "How come you speak Romanian?" Foreign languages always came easy to him. When we were stationed in Germany, he picked up the language in a few weeks. Bucky seems hesitant to reply at first. He moistens his lips, something he always does when he's nervous and looks about. Why is he so secretive about it?

"My handlers taught me. They insisted I learned Russian too. As the years progressed I started to think in Russian. I forget I even knew English. It wasn't until you addressed me on that bridge, that I realized I knew that language."

"It was all part of their brainwashing act." I get that. You strip someone of their identity and replace it with ideology. I can't even begin to imagine what those decades must have been like for him. He must have been lonely. "What are you having?" I ask in order to distract him. He looks detached and is probably remembering something fairly unpleasant.

"I'll give the pasta Bolognese a try," he says and closes the menu.

Something we discussed earlier keeps him distracted. I want to ask what's wrong, but he waiter makes his return that moment.

"Did you already make a selection?" he asks in English.

I arch an eyebrow at Bucky. I was under the impression the waiter only spoke Romanian.

Bucky shrugs. "What do you want?"

I notice he's careful not to say my name. The paranoia is still there. "I'll try the pasta Bolognese too."

"What would you like to drink?" the waiter asks while scribbling down our order.

"Bring us a bottle of your best red wine," I say quickly before Bucky can interfere.

"Of course!" The waiter turns around and marches off.

"You don't play fair," Bucky says accusingly.

"Forgive me," I whisper. "I'm in the mood for wine."

"We'll see about that when I turn into a nasty drunk. You'll be sorry you tricked me. There will be payback."

I smile warmly. "I missed that," I tell him. "I missed you kicking my ass. You're basically the only one who isn't intimidated by me being Captain America." Bucky cocks his head and glares at me. How I love seeing the old Bucky make a return!

"Intimidated? They're out of their mind then. You still need a good ass whopping every now and then. It keeps you from getting into trouble, at least I hope so."

The wine arrives and I pour us some. A moment later the waiter drops off a carafe filled with water as well, and Bucky gives me a smug look, getting himself some water too. I merely grin. It's good to know we're both up to our old tricks. Slowly but certainly that depressed mood Bucky has been in lifts and I welcome the change.

0000

The pasta is excellent and I finish quickly. Bucky however is taking his time, clearly savoring the food and occasionally sipping from his wine, which he alternates with water. That way I have little hope of him becoming tipsy. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" Bucky puts down the utensils and looks at me.

"What would you like to do?"

He sounds and looks smug. His old confidence is making a return. "Maybe you can show me around Bucharest? So far I haven't seen much of the city."

"We can do that," Bucky concedes and returns to his food.

"Do you want dessert?" I ask hopefully as I'm still hungry.

"The tiramisu is pretty good," Bucky replies and finishes his food. He looks full, but content. "We can try that."

He sips from his wine again. If only he would stop drinking the water. "Let's order some then."

"Do you want coffee too?" Bucky asks.

"No, no coffee." I'm not in the mood for that. Bucky places our order in Romanian and I sit back, enjoying being here with him and doing something trivial, but very important, like eating out. It's something normal people do and I want him to forget about Hydra, even if it's only for a few hours.

0000

Feeling stuffed, we head back to the apartment. Bucky turned silent the moment we left the restaurant and seems lost in thought. I'm not going to disturb him. He'll tell me why he's brooding when he's ready to do so.

0000

I offer to walk Frenchie, since it's late and dark outside. Bucky seems to be happy to be back home so I'm taking over dog walking duty. Thankfully Frenchie is quick and seems eager to return home too, especially now that it's starting to rain again. Let's hope it is only rain and not another thunderstorm brewing. Bucky needs a good night's sleep, preferably with no nightmares waking him up.

0000

Frenchie heads straights for the radiator in the living room and stretches in front of it. Bucky is moving about in the bedroom and it sounds like he's pushing his backpack beneath the bed. I still haven't figured out what's in it.

"Are you decent?" I call out jokingly before stepping into the bedroom. Bucky looks spooked and the terror in his eyes takes me aback. "Did something happen while I was out walking Frenchie?" Bucky looks at me and I can tell he's trying to make up his mind about confiding in me.

"I can't tell you now; maybe later."

At least he didn't reject the offer straight away. "Just give me a few minutes in the bathroom." I do need to shower. I grab some clothes and head for the bathroom, wishing I knew what Bucky is up to. I try not to think about it while taking that shower, brushing my teeth, and getting into some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Coming outside," I warn him. Stepping into the bedroom, I find it empty and I get worried he made a run for it after all. A quick look beneath the bed tells me his stuff is still there, so I reckon Bucky didn't leave after all.

I find him curled up on the couch in the living room. He looks miserable and I wonder what happened to change his mood like that. "Lift them," I instruct him and he lifts his feet, so I can sit down. "What's wrong?" Now that I have a hold on his feet, I'm going to use that to my advantage and start rubbing them.

"Not fair," Bucky weakly objects.

But he doesn't pull his feet away, so I continue massaging them. "What's wrong? You were in a good mood when we left the restaurant. Now you're miserable again."

"Maybe I should sleep on the couch or go back to my apartment. I'm going to ruin your sleep again."

He sounds worried, like he already knows something bad will happen. "What do think will happen tonight? You sound like you're sure the nightmares will be back."

"It's raining, isn't it? What if there's another thunderstorm on its way? I didn't break down earlier today, so it's bound to happen tonight."

"Even if that happens, don't worry about ruining my sleep. I want you to remember this instead; I want to be there for you. It's my decision to do this. I want to be here."

Bucky manages a weak smile. "And how many more nights do you think you can continue to watch over me during the night? You'll get tired too."

"Buck, that's not your concern. I just want you to get some rest. Speaking of that, shouldn't we move this to the bed? Why don't you change your clothes and I get us some bottled water for the night?" I let go of his feet and he actually seems disappointed. He looks cute when he pouts.

Bucky gets to his feet and slowly makes his way into the bathroom. I don't share his concern. Last night, he had one nightmare and we dealt with it. We slept peacefully during the remaining hours. Hopefully tonight won't be much different.

0000

Bucky is still in the bathroom, so I settle down in bed and slip beneath the covers. The best thing about it is that Bucky will shortly join me. I don't have to wait long. He appears five minutes later, wearing an oversized T-shirt and pajama bottoms. He remains standing in the doorway and seems reluctant to join me.

"Get in bed," I invite him, moving back the covers so he join me. Bucky drags his feet, but makes his way over to the bed and sits down on the side. "Don't worry, Buck, everything will be fine," I reassure him, realizing he needs to hear it.

Bucky gives in and lies down. He moves onto his side so he is facing me and that's my cue to move closer. I cover us with the comforter and open my arms, inviting him in. Bucky looks at me gingerly. "Don't worry about it," I tell him again. "I want you here." He sighs and then moves into my arms –finally. "Better," I comment and smile at him. "Can I kiss you goodnight?"

The nature of his nervousness seems to change. It's no longer about the nightmares, but about me wanting to kiss him again. "Only if you want to kiss," I assure him. I keep my hands above the waist line and rub his back through the fabric of his T-shirt. The fingers of my other hand move through his hair, trying to lure him into a sense of safety that way. He nods and swallows nervously.

I keep the goodnight kiss light and superficial. Pulling away, I realize he's blushing again, which tells me I need to go really slow. It's no surprise he's reacting this timidly to my advances. I doubt he has known a kind touch since Hydra got a hold on him. "Sleep tight." He relaxes upon hearing that. Maybe he worried about me wanting more, but I know better than that. I press another kiss onto his brow and then close my eyes, so he doesn't feel constantly watched.

It takes Bucky at least half an hour to unwind and to get comfortable in my arms, but then his breathing evens out and he finally dozes off. I open my eyes and look at him. No matter what will happen tonight, I'll be there for him.

0000

"Steve?"

At hearing my name, I instantly wake up and check on Bucky. He's awake, slightly agitated, but not panicking. "Yes, Buck?"

"Are you staying? You're not leaving, are you?"

His fingers tightly grip my shirt and he gives me a pleading look. I smile at him and pull him closer. "I'm staying. I have no plans to leave you ever again. You're stuck with me. Now try to go back to sleep. You need the rest." I press a kiss onto the top of his head. Bucky settles down, but he isn't going back to sleep. His breathing is too fast for that.

"Stevie?"

"I'm here. You can let go and get some sleep. You must be exhausted. Just close your eyes and let go. I'm here to stay," I say, while soothingly rubbing his back. I can't rush this and need to give him the time he needs to feel safe.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't, there's no reason to feel that way. I love holding you, Bucky. It's the best feeling in the world, knowing you're in my arms. Close those eyes and let go."

"Thanks, Stevie…"

A few minutes later he relaxes against me; he's asleep again. I fight the tears from rising in my eyes. That actually shook me up worse than Bucky waking up screaming due to a nightmare. "I'm here to stay," I repeat. "I love you. No one is going to take you away from me."

0000

I wake up several hours later. Checking the alarm clock tells me it's four in the morning. Until now Bucky slept peacefully, but that has changed. He's awake again, his eyes are wide open and he's staring at the ceiling. There's a worryingly vacant look in his eyes and he's trembling. His left arm tightened its segments again and his hand turned into a fist. It's something that seems to happen whenever he experiences a great deal of stress. Bucky moved onto his back during the night and I shift closer, carefully pulling him against me.

"Bucky?" He swallows hard and fear stares right back at me when he turns his head toward me. This is different from what happened earlier. He seems terrified and his breathing speeds up.

"Who are you?" Bucky cringes and his eyes widen at hearing the sound of his own voice.

The tremors worsen and he continues to look at me with terror in his eyes. Did he forget about me? It's possible. "I'm Steve and you're Bucky, Bucky Barnes. You're my best friend." I don't want to overwhelm him, but I do need to reassure him. "It's okay if you don't remember me. Your memories will come back. Just give it time, even though that's scary. You're safe with me."

"Why are we in bed together?"

Brilliant question, Buck! "Because I'm guarding your sleep. I'm here to chase off the nightmares and to keep you safe. I can do that best when you're close." I actually congratulate myself on the way I phrased that. Bucky seems to calm down, but there's still a hint of distrust in his eyes and I don't blame him. "It must be frightening to wake up like this; with no memory to tell you who you are or why we are here." Bucky nods slowly and relaxes further. Even his fist seems to unwind, opening slowly.

"It is," he admits gingerly. "I have no idea who you are or why I am here."

I smile gently and tuck his head under my chin. I'm relieved when he moves along and seems content to rest in my arms. It shows that he trusts me on a deeply subconscious level. "When you wake up next, it will all come back to you. Just remember you're safe with me. I'll watch over you." Before I finish, he's back asleep again. I'm so damn grateful that he didn't have any violent nightmares or flashbacks for a change. I hope that he will wake up feeling rested. So far, I managed to soothe him each time before he could panic.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

I had to remove the opening scene for this part because it was a love scene. You miss a few pages, but should be able to continue reading the story without problems...

Part 7

I definitely need a cold shower after what Steve just put me through, so I head for my apartment while Steve prefers a hot shower at his own place. I open the door and carefully study my surroundings before even considering to step inside. Some things aren't the way I left them, but then again, I can't be certain, since Steve walks in and out of the place to get whatever he needs to prepare a meal. It puts me on alert though. I hate being unable to tell if some stranger has been in the apartment. Luckily my backpack is safely stored beneath Steve's bed.

I quickly head for the bathroom after picking up a set of clean clothes. I'd never willingly subject myself to a cold shower after what happened at that lake, but today is different. I'm fighting hormones I didn't know were still active. I'm still stunned that Steve got my body to react in such a way. I've felt dead for a long time.

The cold shower does as I had hoped. I quickly dry my skin and step into the boxers, which are quickly followed by a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt. I head back into the living room and look about. Something feels wrong. Nothing seems out of place, but… Alerted, I realize something IS wrong. I need to get out of here ASAP, but I have no idea why. My instincts are telling me to get moving and I always listen to my gut instinct.

I close the door behind me and even lock it, don't ask me why though. At times like this, I operate instinctively. I cross the hallway, scanning the staircase, but can't find anything out of the ordinary. I'm relieved though when I close the door to Steve's apartment behind me. Frenchie who normally greets me loudly, remains quiet, as if sensing something is wrong with me.

"Buck?" Steve, carrying a mug with his beloved coffee, steps out of the kitchen and looks at me oddly. "You look like you have just seen a ghost."

"Sssht," I tell him and place a finger across my lips, telling him to be quiet. He catches on, puts down his mug, and gestures for me to join him. I step away from the door and start to move toward him when there is a lot of noise in the hallway. Someone's calling out orders and a large number of people storm up the staircase. I already know where they're headed; my apartment. "They found me," I whisper and back further away from the door. If I had stayed at my apartment a bit longer, they would have found me there. The question is, will they bother to search the rest of the building?

Steve sneaks over to the door and uses the little spy hole to see find out what's happening. "It's the police… They're heavily armed. They definitely know you're here, Buck."

"What do we do?" And how did they find me? Did Steve lead them to me? But no, Steve knows when he's being tailed. He would have noticed. Steve's already on the phone, probably calling Romanoff, and… of course, that's how they found me. She informed them, using a false name of course. It's the easiest way to get rid of me without putting any of the blame on herself. She's smart, I have to give her that.

"Nat and Sam are going to pick us up. Does this place have a back entrance?"

"Are you insane? They're watching the building. If we leave now, they'll capture us. Even if we can escape, they'll follow us and find us. We need to stay put and hope for the best!" I put on socks, step into my boots, and open all the curtains. "Go into the kitchen and stay there. You need to appear to be making breakfast, don't do anything stupid."

Crawling, I move toward the bed and slide into place underneath it. I pull my backpack toward me and hold on tight. "They're probably watching all apartments. Now that I've opened up the curtains they can see what's happening. As long as you don't do anything out of the ordinary, we're safe. If they knock, let them in."

I'm grateful that Steve isn't objecting. Instead, he goes about making himself breakfast and hums while drinking his coffee. He uncovers his phone again and sends Romanoff a message, hopefully telling them to wait it out. If she's behind this, she'll probably blow my cover. If she has no part in this, she'll stay hidden.

I hope Steve doesn't do anything rash. He's the type of guy that would open the door and ask the police what's going on. He can't do that this time. He needs to stay low.

The commotion continues for another twenty minutes, then everything grows quiet again. I hear cars pulling up and then turning around, leaving the premises. They didn't find me so they will be searching the rest of the city for me. I doubt they'll consider the possibility of me hiding in one of the tenants' apartments.

Steve moves closer and sits down on the bed. While pretending to be putting on his shoes, he whispers, "What do you want to do next?"

I appreciate it that he leaves the decision making up to me. Steve is used to being in charge, but knows he might be at a disadvantage right now. That's what makes him a good leader; I noticed it back in the war too. "We wait ten more minutes. Then you open the front door and check out the hallway. See how many policemen are left. Tell Romanoff to inspect the building and the street. We need to know if they left for real." While Steve follows my instructions, I wonder if I shouldn't change into the Winter Soldier's uniform. It's bullet and fire proof and will give me an advantage in battle. I hate the very thought of putting it on though. Wearing it will trigger flashbacks and I can't take that risk.

"Nat says they're moving out of range. I just checked the hallway and there are two policemen stationed at the entrance. They didn't appear suspicious when I looked at them, probably because there were several other tenants doing exactly the same thing."

Well, we can't stay here forever. I get to my feet, open the backpack, and stuff my suit into it as well.

"I always wondered what you were hiding. I should have thought of that."

Well, I'm glad I satisfied his fucking curiosity. "We're walking out the front door. Anything else will draw their attention. Whatever you do, don't talk to me. If they hear you're American, they will wonder what you're doing here."

"Won't they recognize you?"

"I hope not. They'll expect me to be alone. They won't be looking for two friends." I put on my cap, pull back my hair, and try to hide it beneath the material. Next I select one of Steve's coats. It fits, and it's something I would never wear. I briefly consider putting on sunglasses, but that might rouse their suspicions. I'll have to risk it. I swing my backpack onto my back and fetch Frenchie's leash. They won't expect the Winter Soldier to walk his dog. "Don't worry," I tell Frenchie, "I won't leave you behind."

"Are you sure about taking him along?"

"Yes, I am." I walk toward the door and beckon Steve to join me. "Come on, we need to get moving. From this moment on, I'll only speak in Romanian to you. All you need to do is nod whenever I pause. Got it?"

"Yes, boss," Steve says and winks at me.

He's not taking this seriously enough, but there's no time to lecture him. Steve is probably wondering why we're not fighting ourselves a way out, but I don't want the entire police force hunting me down. I close the door behind us and tell Frenchie to stay close – in Romanian of course. We head for the doorway and the two police officers are zeroing in on us. I greet them and inquire what the fuss was about. They tell me not worry about it. It was a false alarm and the building is safe. I thank them, turn toward Steve, and tell him to get going at which he nods. Frenchie is out of the door first and already heading for the park. I approve of the idea and allow him to guide me there. It's hard not to look over my shoulder at the police patrolling the street. I wonder if they recognized me and are calling it in.

"You can contact Romanoff now. Tell her that we will meet them at the south entrance of the park." Steve quietly gets on the phone and relays the information. I can't believe we got away that easily. There must be a trap and we're walking right into it. But then again, it was the police raiding the apartment, not Hydra or Shield. Those two organizations would have searched the whole building and would have questioned everyone. The police is a different matter all together. They're not that paranoid.

"They are on their way. Do you think we fooled them?"

"I think so, but we can't be sure. Fuck, we left your shield behind!" How stupid of me to forget about it. But there is no way we could have smuggled it outside without anyone noticing it.

"Don't worry about it. Nat already picked it up. They're no longer watching the building."

"I don't feel safe yet," I tell him. "There they are." I spotted their car and easily identify Romanoff's red hair. She should wear wigs more often or change her hair color.

"Get in quickly," Wilson says and opens the car doors.

I slip onto the back seat, put Frenchie on my lap, and the backpack in between my feet. Steve slides inside and we close the doors. "Get moving, but drive slowly. Don't draw any attention. We need to put some distance between us and them."

"You brought the dog along! That's cute!"

Wilson turns in his seat and makes funny faces at the dog, trying to get Frenchie's attention. I find it hard to believe he's actually a soldier considering the way he's behaving.

"Where are we headed?" Steve asks, trying hard to contain Frenchie who is eager to move onto Sam's lap.

"Back to the plane. I plan on getting us out the same way we got it. Below the radar and going invisible," Romanoff says and concentrates on driving. She's scanning the streets for possible threats.

"And then what?" Steve looks from over his shoulder and spies the shield, waiting for him. "New York? Stark's tower?"

"That's a negative," Nat says. "Tony stumbled upon some footage of the Winter Soldier killing his parents. You don't want to go there just yet. When he realized I was helping the two of you he wasn't pleased to say the least."

I knew it would come into the open one day. I had hoped it would be later than sooner. I gained another enemy who probably can't wait to extract some revenge. "Then what?"

"We're taking you to Clint's farm. I called him earlier and he's okay with you staying at his place. He's already expecting you."

"Clint?" I have no idea who that is and I don't like that.

"Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye. He's a good friend and someone you can trust."

It's Romanoff supplying me with that information and not Steve. "I'm not sure that's a smart thing to do. We'll endanger him by staying with him."

"He's used to danger," Steve says and smiles reassuringly. "He knows how to handles situations like these, and yes, Nat is right; I trust him."

Steve doesn't trust that many people, so this Clint must have done something pretty extraordinary for him to have gained Steve's trust. "I still advise against it." I don't want to endanger anyone.

"Guys, what happened? Why did they raid the apartment?" Steve asks curiously. "It came right out of the blue!"

"You haven't seen any newspapers, I guess? Or watched the news recently?" Wilson inquires, while shaking his head in disbelief.

Wilson is probably wondering about that, but I'm not going to tell him that those things act as triggers and that I have to stay clear of them. That's personal.

"There's been an attack on the United Nations in Vienna and there were a lot of casualties. Prominent ones too. Apparently there's some footage of Barnes leaving the crime scene. The image is rather blurry, but apparently it's enough to condemn him," Wilson replies and throws us a newspaper.

I stare at the grainy picture and cringe, realizing there's enough resemblance for people to think it's me. "I didn't do it," I tell them. "That isn't me."

"We know that," Wilson says reassuringly, watching us closely. "Someone wants to frame you and has the world looking out for you."

I notice the way Romanoff cringes. So she does play a part in this. I just knew it.

"They put a huge price on your head, Barnes, and my contact gave into temptation. He contacted the police and told them where to find you. You're damn lucky you moved in with Rogers or they would have caught you."

"We need to find out who is behind this," Steve says resolutely, "And take them out of the game. The world needs to know the truth."

"The world is still dealing with the fact that the Winter Soldier and First World war hero Sergeant Barnes are one and the same person," Wilson cautions him.

Me? A war hero? The guy is insane. "Steve, we need to find out the truth instead of hiding at your friend's place and endangering him."

"I disagree," Nat says, "And so does Fury."

"You're in touch with him?" Steve asks curiously.

I feel left out and glare at him. Steve shrugs and reaches for my hand, which I pull out of his reach.

"Buck, come on, we can't rush into this," Steve says pleadingly.

"Do I detect trouble in paradise?" Wilson wiggles an eyebrow.

I ignore the comment and focus on Steve. "You know they will come for me. You don't want anyone else to die because of me."

"Clint can take care of himself and babysit the two of you, trust me," Romanoff says while giving me a chiding look. "Rogers is right. You can't show yourself in public – yet."

It appears that I'm outnumbered, damn it. I still don't like it, but have no choice, but to go along.

0000

Romanoff shoos me onto the plane and I reluctantly comply. I wonder if it belongs to Shield. It has some sophisticated equipment the military failed to get their hands on so far.

"It's Stark's in case you're wondering," she tells me and points at one of the seats. "You'd better strap yourself in."

"Frenchie, get down and stay down." They probably think me mad for bringing the dog along, but I don't want to leave him behind now that he has grown used to me. He might not survive for long on those streets.

"Clint's going to love this," Romanoff comments as he prepares for takeoff. "He's mad about dogs."

Wilson sits down next to Romanoff and the two of them concentrate on readying the plane for takeoff. Steve straps himself in next to me and reaches for my right hand. He wraps his fingers around mine and holds it gently. "This is a mistake," I tell him. "You're signing your friend's death warrant."

"I don't think so," Steve says reassuringly. "In a way, he's a sniper too, but he uses a bow and arrows to take out his enemies."

"Does he still live in the middle ages?" Who, in his right mind, would choose a weapon like that? It's highly ineffective.

"Not like that," Steve chuckles. "It's all high tech. Just wait until you see him in action."

I hope I never will. "And he lives off the grid?" I need to gather as much information as I can now that I'm moving onto alien territory.

"Yeah, Fury even kept them out of Shield's records."

"Them? Did you say them? Don't tell me he has a family!" If that's the case, we're turning this plane around right now!

"Yeah, he lives on a farm with his wife, Laura, and three kids, Cooper, Lila and… Hey, Nat, what did they call the baby?"

"Nathaniel… He was supposed to be a Natasha though."

"There are kids out there? And a baby? That's it. We're turning this plane around. We're not endangering them, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Romanoff says and gives me an stunned look. "You're nothing like I thought you'd be."

"She's right," Wilson agrees, keeping a close eye on all readings. "When you ripped that steering wheel right out of my hands, I died a thousand deaths. I hated you for doing that to me. I hated you for shooting Nat and screwing with Steve's head, but… you're different. I didn't think you'd… care."

I sigh deeply and count to ten. "We're not endangering a family. Certainly not with a baby on the premises. We're not."

"Too bad, because I'm counting on you to arrive within the next few hours, Barton out."

"What? He was on standby the entire time?" I feel betrayed and glare Steve. "This isn't over yet," I warn him. There'll be hell to pay if something happens to Barton and his family.

0000

I'm still majorly pissed off when the plane touches down. I already spotted the farm Steve mentioned earlier and can't believe they're going through with this. There are kids down there! A baby, for crying out loud!

"Are you still angry with me?"

"What do you think, stupid?" I can't help being angry with him. Steve looks hurt, but I shake my head at him. "We shouldn't be here. There are kids down there. And a baby!"

Romanoff suddenly falls into pace next to me and smiles at me. "You don't know Clint. He would never have agreed to this if he thought your presence endangered his family. He knows how to protect his loved ones. Just because you don't see any defenses in places, doesn't mean they aren't there."

"Sorry," I whisper and offer Steve my right hand, in case he wants to reestablish contact. "I just worry about their safety." Steve accepts the peace offering and pulls my hand toward him, holding it close. It's good to know I've been forgiven. Like Steve, I can be rash too. I catch sight of the welcoming committee. Thankfully they didn't bring the kids. "What's her name?" I should know how to address the lady who agreed to hide me from the world.

"I'm Clint and this is my wife Laura."

The guy has fucking remarkable hearing for him to have picked on that. I'm impressed; I probably couldn't have done it. I would have been forced to turn to lip reading. Looking at the brown-haired, smiling woman, I'm not quite sure how to address her. Misses Barton or just Laura? Steve's mum would have my hide if I was disrespectful toward a woman, and most certainly my host. "Misses Barton," I say eventually, and it earns me a strange look from Romanoff. Steve however, isn't surprised. He had the same upbringing I did, but the difference is that he knows her.

"Laura, Clint, thanks for offering us a place to stay," Steve says charmingly. "I must apologize on Bucky's behalf. He's merely worried about your family's safety. Please don't take the things you heard on the radio personally."

What's he doing? I can apologize myself if I need to. "We shouldn't drag you into this. You should worry about your wife and kids, not… me." Barton unexpectedly moves toward me and gives me a smile which is hard to decipher. I would call it pleased, but that makes no sense.

"Yeah, I listened to you rave on the radio, and in order to reassure you, let me tell you that you're perfectly safe here. Believe me when I say that this place is secure — really secure. No one who isn't invited will make it here alive."

I have no idea how he can say that as I don't see any defenses.

"I must admit that I was hesitant at first. When Nat called and asked me if I could put up the two of you for some time I wasn't sure what to do. The attack on the UN had just happened and everyone was saying you did it. Imagine my surprise when Nat assures me you're being framed. I trust her. I trust Steve too. I want to help if I can."

Frenchie tugs at the leash and I want to tell the dog to calm down, but Barton is going down on his knees to make contact. I let go of the leash, since I trust Frenchie to behave himself, and watch Barton pat him. Didn't someone say the guy loved dogs?

"That's one polite dog," Barton says and smiles. "The kids will love him. What's his name?"

"Frenchie," I stammer, feeling overwhelmed by the welcome I'm getting. "He doesn't bite, or bark much. He's basically a good dog."

"I believe that," Barton says and smiles at his wife. "Are you okay with the dog?"

"Of course I am. I know you're pining to get one of your own. This is even better. Now we can practice before actually getting one."

I get the impression she's a kind and easy going lady; well, she has to be, considering she is willing to put up with me.

"Steve, it's good to see you again," she says and briefly hugs him before turning toward me. "There's no need for formality, just call me Laura. You're welcome here. What should I call you?"

"Bucky," I admit, feeling shy. I can't help it. In the past I was quite the charmer, but ever since Hydra got their fucking hands on me, I have a hard time interacting with people and women in particular.

"I'll show you to your rooms," she says and winks at Steve.

"Actually," Steve says immediately, "We would prefer to share."

"I thought so, but I wanted to make sure."

The way she grins at Barton tells me she already figured it out. There's no need for secrecy here.

"This is where Sam and I will say goodbye," Romanoff says. "We're heading for New York and we'll try to talk some sense into Tony. We'll stay in touch, Rogers!" She raises her arm and waves at him in goodbye. Wilson follows her and the two of them disappear into the plane, which takes off a few minutes later.

This is it. I'm stuck here and should probably make the best out of the situation I'm in. I follow them into the house and wonder what I got myself into this time. This is a far cry from the life I got used to in Bucharest. I don't even know what part of the States I'm in!

I come to a standstill realizing the kids are waiting for us. I give Steve a slightly panicked look, at which he curls an arm around me and pulls me close. I don't know what to think of that move and consider pulling away, but the way Laura and Clint look at us tells me that they are okay with us being together. The world has surely changed.

"Cooper, Lila, say hi to our guests. You remember Steve, don't you? And this is his friend Bucky. They'll be staying with us for some time," Clint says and gently pushes his son toward us.

"I'm Cooper," the boy says and extends his hand in greeting.

I feel out of my league, but thankfully Sarah's training in good manners kicks in. "Hello, I'm Bucky." I shake his hand lightly, making sure I'm not putting any pressure on it. Then Cooper grows aware of Frenchie, who's exploring his new home.

"You have a dog!"

Wow, he's rather enthusiastic about that. "His name is Frenchie. You can pet him if you like. He doesn't bite."

"Hi, I'm Lila, can I play with him too?"

She sounds equally excited as her brother and I nod. "Of course you can." She sits down next to Frenchie, who enjoys the attention and rolls onto his back, exposing his tummy so they can rub it. He's so going to take full advantage of those two liking him. I predict hours of play, long walks, and lots of treats accidentally falling from the dinner table so he can eat them. But that's okay; after what happened to him, he deserves that.

"Come along, I'll show you to your room while Laura gets started on the food. You must be hungry."

I missed breakfast, unlike Steve, who got his coffee and something to eat, so I nod. "Food's always welcome." I didn't think I would like it here, but they are really trying to make me feel welcome. Steve and I climb the stairs and I realize Frenchie, the traitor, stayed behind and is probably getting spoiled by the kids.

"I hope the room is okay," Clint says and opens the door.

It's spacious, light, and breathes a warm atmosphere. "It's great, thanks." It's more than I deserve for endangering them.

"I'll give you two a chance to freshen up. I suspect you didn't have time to pack, so I took the liberty of putting some clothes in the closet. I can't promise they'll fit."

"Thanks," Steve says and places his shield next to the bed. "Clint, I really appreciate it."

Clint dismisses the comment with a wave of his hand. "You're my friend, Steve. The two of you are welcome, yes, you too, Bucky. I know you worry about my family's safety and that means a lot to me. Any doubts I might have had about you are gone. So, please know that you're welcome too."

Clint doesn't give me a chance to react to that as he quickly descends the stairs. I put my backpack beneath the bed and look about. Steve already feels at home here, but I don't.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

I sit down on the bed and wonder how the hell I got into this situation. I blame Steve, but that's hardly fair. If that attack on the UN hadn't happened we would still be in Bucharest. I can't help but wonder who's trying to frame me and why? All secret services are currently searching for me, but even if they find me, why rat me out?

"Do you want to freshen up first? The bathroom is that way."

Steve sits down next to me and tilts his head in an effort to make eye contact. "Why?" I ask him. "What do they gain by framing me for that attack?"

"I don't know," Steve admits. "But we'll find out. Give Nat a little time to work her magic."

"I don't get it. Even if they arrest me and make me stand trial… What's in it for them? Why are they doing this?"

"You'll drive yourself mad thinking like that, Buck. Go freshen up. I'm hungry."

"You actually had breakfast," I remind him. "And coffee." I had been hiding beneath the bed at the time. Now that Steve brought it up, I realize I can eat too. "I'll be quick," I promise, knowing he wants to freshen up too. I get to my feet, head for the bathroom, and step inside. It's compact, but offers everything I need. I turn on the faucet and splash some water onto my face. Grabbing the towel, I stare into the mirror and freeze. The person staring back at me is a stranger. I used to look sharp and I took great care with my looks, but these days I look like something the cat dragged in.

I rest my hands on the sink, look down so I no longer have to face my reflection, and freeze upon catching sight of the shaving cream and… there's a razor. Suddenly I sway, hold on tight to the sink, and a sickening nausea rises from the pit of my stomach. There's a razor… a razor…

All of a sudden I'm back in Siberia and in my cell. I'm still getting used to being out of cryo; my lungs are struggling to draw in breath and my body feels alien. I don't feel connected to it at. It's like someone cut the strings that connected the puppeteer and the puppet – me. All I'm capable of is sitting there and staring straight ahead, doing my best not to suffocate because my lungs can't cope with operating independently yet.

"It's time to clean you up, soldier."

Several handlers enter the room, carrying all kind of paraphernalia. They'll strip me first, push me into the shower cabin where icy cold water will shock my system into full cooperation, and eventually they will shave and dress me in the Winter Soldier's attire. Then they will lead me to Hydra's machine and the pain will start all over again. I stand paralyzed, unable to move without an order.

"Bucky? What's taking you so long?"

I don't know that voice. It's probably a new handler whom I didn't meet yet. He steps up to me and stares at me. I keep perfectly still, not wanting to give him a reason to discipline me. I only stared at the razor. I didn't touch it. I know I'm not allowed around any potential weapons.

"Bucky? What's happening? You have that strange look in your eyes again. Are you experiencing another flashback? Let go of the sink… You can hold onto me instead."

I can't disobey a direct order and manage to pry my hands loose, letting go of the sink. I stand absolutely still, but my left hand malfunctions. It tightens and my hand turns into a fist. The pressure is incredible and pain slices through the segments. I try to ease them, but my arm won't obey. I'm starting to panic; that isn't supposed to happen.

"We're heading for the bedroom, Buck. We're going to sit down and have a little chat. You're safe with me."

I have no idea why he's telling me that. Handlers don't reassure, they punish and discipline, so what's going on with him? I follow his instructions and sit down on a bed, which is odd in itself. My cell doesn't hold a bed, so where does this one come from?

"Bucky, listen to me. My name is Steve and yours is Bucky. We're best friends. You got away from Hydra and we are currently staying with friends."

That's nonsense. No one escapes Hydra's clutches. I should know; I tried.

"Hey, guys, what's taking you? Dinner's ready…"

A new handler arrives and my nervousness increases. Having one of them near is bad enough, but two of them means punishment.

"Clint, this is not a good time. Bucky is experiencing a flashback and it's always hard to draw him from it."

Experiencing a flashback? What the hell are they talking about?

"Frenchie, don't!"

My first reaction is to fight off my attacker, but what if it's a handler and I anger him by acting without orders? I lower my arm and a wet sensation moves across my face. It stuns me and pulls me from the trance I am in. I blink, look at the dog licking my face, and everything rushes back in – all at the same time. I sway, drop to the left, and curl up on my side while trying to endure the madness that is taking over.

"Clint, please get Frenchie out of the room… Or at least hold him tight. Hey, Bucky, everything is fine. You're at Clint's farm and we're sharing rooms. They actually wanted to put us in separate rooms. Imagine that."

Fingers move through my hair in a soothing motion and I try to breathe through the pain. I don't know how long it takes for me to regain control over my thoughts, but it feels like hours.

"I've got you. Don't worry, Bucky. I'll catch you each time you fall."

"I fell from that train," I whisper, once more remembering who I am and how I got here. I remember Steve too, and Clint, the guy who took us in. Steve's hand settles on my hip, reassuring me through touch. "I know who you are… You're Steve."

"That's good. That's very good. I'm glad to hear it. How is your head doing?"

"It's killing me." I feel embarrassed upon realizing that Clint also witnessed my break down. He stares at me, but the expression in his eyes baffles me. It's isn't disgust, or even pity, emotions which I would have expected to see. It's sympathy and understanding and I don't get it. "I'm sorry about that," I manage apologizing to Clint once the worst nausea passes. "But it happens all the time."

"Not all the time," Steve says at once.

"Don't worry about it," Clint replies in a thoughtful way. "After I broke free from Loki's mind control I had some major headaches too. Laura actually experimented with some herbal teas until she found a mixture that works. You should give it a try."

I vaguely recall Steve telling me something about Clint being enslaved by someone called Loki, but I can't remember any details. Frenchie whines softly and rests his head on the side of the bed, giving me a sorrowful look with that eye of his. It's time I stop feeling sorry for myself and I elbow myself into a sitting position. I only succeed because Steve wraps a supporting arm around my shoulder. "This is wrong," I tell both of them. "This is exactly why I shouldn't be here. You don't want me around your family when this happens." Hopefully they'll finally see reason!

"I haven't seen anything that worries me," Clint says calmly. "You didn't attack anyone. You didn't threaten me. So why should I be worried?"

I can't believe this. "Because of what I am!" I roll up my sleeve and present my bionic arm to him, which is still on lockdown. "I can't control my actions."

"I disagree, it doesn't look like that to me. These flashbacks scare you, and believe me, I understand as I had them frequently myself, but there isn't a single bad bone inside you. You want to protect people, not to attack them."

Clint raises a hand, silencing me because I want to contradict him, but at seeing his expression, I remain silent instead.

"You worry about my family's safety. I heard you on the radio when you were still on the plane. If it had been up to you, you wouldn't have come here. They had to make you. That's why I trust you. That's also probably why your arm shuts down when you experience a flashback, so you can't use it, so you can't injure anyone. That's your brain taking control and that brain's operating modus is set to protect. Plus, that dog trusts you, and dogs are great judges of character."

I blink, feeling quite stunned after that little speech. I might expect it from Steve, but not from this stranger.

"I'll tell Laura to make you some of that herbal tea. Come downstairs when you feel up to it, I would appreciate it. If you can't manage, let me know, and I'll send up some food." Clint gets to his feet, pets Frenchie's head, and walks toward the doorway. "Just remember we want you here, Bucky."

He leaves the room and me shaken to the core. How can he presume he knows me that well? He doesn't know me at all. I'm dangerous and they need to take every precaution they can to make sure I don't hurt anyone. "Steve…"

"He's right, Buck. I agree with Clint. Yes, these episodes will probably continue to occur , but they only last for a short time and you're never out of control."

Steve pulls me towards him and I allow it. With trepidation I look at it him. Are they really this blind? Or do they see something in me that I can't see? Clint, who's practically a stranger, doesn't think I present a danger to his family. How can he be so sure? Why does he think that?

"We should go downstairs and join them. How steady on your feet are you?"

I sigh; apparently Steve is going to back up Clint on this matter. "I don't know." What choice do I have but to give into them? I only hope they aren't wrong about me. I will never forgive myself if I hurt anyone of them. I get to my feet and am relieved to find I'm not dizzy. The headache is still there though. "Don't you want to freshen up first?"

"I'll do that later. We should get some food inside you first."

I forget about objecting, as it isn't worth fighting over. If Steve thinks eating is important, he's going to make eat at any rate. I don't want to go downstairs. I can deal with Clint knowing what happened, Laura too, but not the kids. I don't want to frighten them. Frenchie whimpers again, and by doing so, draws my attention. "Traitor," I chide him softly. "You quickly exchanged me for those kids." The dog suddenly looks remarkably guilty and lowers his head. "Well, I can't blame you…" At hearing that, he raises his head and barks softly at me. "Stop that."

We move downstairs and Steve never leaves me side. I bet he's ready to catch me should I stumble. I'm tempted to test that theory, but decide against it, as I don't want to give him a heart attack because I wanted to test a theory.

Stepping into the kitchen I grow worried at finding the kids present. The family gathered around the kitchen table and already started eating. The meal consists of sandwiches and soup. There are two empty chairs left, and I quickly choose the one next to Clint, which leaves Steve with no choice but to sit down next to Cooper. Laura gets up, moves over to the counter, and pours hot water into a mug. I hope she didn't go through too much trouble because Clint asked her to make me some of that herbal tea. "You don't have to –" I start, but then she shakes her head and I shut up.

"It's no trouble. It eased Clint's headache so hopefully it will work for you too."

In the meantime, while I wasn't paying attention, Steve placed two sandwiches onto my plate and put a bowl filled with soup next to it. I watch him fill up my mug with milk and wonder when exactly he turned into a mother hen.

"Eat, I hope you'll enjoy the meal," Laura says invitingly.

Frenchie, that little bastard, took up position in-between the kids, and I watch them drop little pieces of ham and turkey so he can eat them. He's not getting anything from me though and he knows it. That's why he's manipulating them instead.

I bite into the sandwich, not because I'm hungry, but because Steve won't stop glaring at me until I do. I might have been hungry earlier, but that flashback still upsets me. I manage to finish the sandwich, and Steve probably expects me to eat more, but I need a break. My stomach still feels queasy so I give the tea a try, instead of the milk. It tastes better than I expected. I'm not a big tea fan, but this is tolerable, and I'm willing to find out if it works.

"Can we take Frenchie for a walk? We will be careful and look out for him!"

The boy, Cooper, gives me a pleading look and I wonder why he's looking at me for permission. He should ask his dad instead.

"It's your dog," Clint says and inclines his head in Frenchie's direction.

"Frenchie loves to play fetch," I tell the kids. "A twig or ball will do. He's also great at catching a frisbee."

"We got a frisbee!" Lila exclaims and looks at Clint. "Are we excused? Please?"

Clint chuckles and nods. "Go ahead then. You know which paths are off limits. Stay close to the farm and make sure you're back before it grows dark."

"We promise! Thanks, dad!" Cooper jumps from his chair and the two kids lead Frenchie, who was ready to go the moment he detected the word 'walk' in the conversation, out of the room.

Frenchie will have a good home here as the kids already love him. I'm realistic enough to understand that I can't drag him around the world with me. I'll never have a steady home and I'll always be on the run. Frenchie deserves better than that.

I sip again, since the taste of the tea is growing on me and I freeze upon hearing a baby wailing, screaming at the tops of his lungs.

"Nate woke up," Clint announces and cringes. "Cooper and Lila never cried that much, they were easy-going, but Nate is different."

"Nate?" Steve frowns.

"Yeah, it's short for Nathaniel, which really doesn't suit him. So we call him Nate instead," Clint explains patiently. Laura gets to her feet and leaves the kitchen to look after him. "We haven't figured out yet how to calm him down when he's upset. Rocking Cooper and Lila always worked, but Nate is different. He won't stop crying."

Laura returns, carrying baby Nate in her arms, and desperately trying to soothe him. She's humming a lullaby, but so far, it has no effect. All it accomplishes is that Nate tests his lungs to full capacity.

Clint's phone, which is on the table, suddenly comes alive and he quickly excuses himself to answer it. I suspect he's glad to have a reason to leave the room. Looking at Laura, I easily identify the fatigue in her eyes. The baby is probably keeping her up all night.

"Steve, would you give it a try? Maybe he likes you and he'll stop crying. I'm desperate," she adds and gives Steve a pleading look.

Steve, the big dummy, can't say no and accepts the crying baby into his arms, talking nonsense and making faces at Nate. I don't know if I remember correctly, but I seem to recall that Steve is really bad with baby's. He's good at interacting with kids, but babies are different. Nate only confirms my suspicions as he cries even harder, waving his tiny little hands in protest and trying to hit Steve. That's a feisty little fellow. "You haven't lost your touch," I say jokingly and wink at him. It's great being able to remember more details about our childhood. The more distant the past, the harder remembering it is. Things that happened recently are the most vivid.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'll try again," Laura says apologetically and gets to her feet to retrieve Nate.

"Wait," Steve says and his eyes narrow dangerously while looking at me. "Let Buck try."

"Oh no!" I shake my head repeatedly. "You don't want to do that. Remember this?" I demonstratively point at my bionic arm, which is once more functioning, telling me that my stress levels are currently down, which is odd, considering the way Nate keeps crying. "You don't want to do that to the baby!"

"Nonsense," Steve states firmly. "You're great with baby's, I remember that. And I believe you remember it too!"

Before I can make a run for it, Steve places Nate into my arms. I react instinctively and cradle him against me, using my right arm to support him. "Steve, don't. Come on, pick him up again!" But Steve merely gives me *that* look and ignores my growing unease. "Stevie!"

All of a sudden, the room grows quiet. Nate settles downs, hiccups several times, and suddenly those little, greedy hands, reach for my shirt. Those tiny fingers grab hold of the fabric and pull. Steve's giving me that all knowing look of his and arches an eyebrow to prove his point. Nate squeals softly and smiles, releasing my shirt and going for the hair this time. "Don't," I tell him decisively and offer him my fingers instead. He instantly locks his chubby fingers around my thumb and chirps.

Clint marches into the kitchen and appears quite stunned, finding me holding Nate. Maybe he doesn't like me holding his child and that's something I completely get. "Steve handed him to me," I explain and plan on returning him to his father ASAP.

"Nate actually stopped crying…" Clint blinks in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

Clint walks up to me and I prepare to hand Nate to him. "I didn't do it on purpose." I don't want him to think I'm willingly endangering his son.

Laura walks towards us and comes to a halt next to her husband. "Do you have any idea how long it usually takes me to calm him down when he's upset like that?"

I have no idea. "Take him." I'm going to get Steve for this later in the privacy of our room. Clint reaches for Nate, and the moment the baby realizes what's happening, he starts wailing again.

"Keep him!" Clint says and takes a step away from us. "Whatever you do, make him go back to sleep."

They can't be serious! "But…"

"No but," Laura states as she returns to preparing his bottle. "He likes you!"

Clint takes his seat again and grins at me. It looks like I'm stuck with the brat. Nate settles down once Clint disappears from view. The baby is way more interested in my thumb than screaming at me. All of a sudden, he turned into the perfect baby – that's eerie.

"You still have that magic touch."

I frown at hearing Steve's statement. "What does that mean?" I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Do you remember Jimmy? Marion's son?"

"Marion? Who's Marion?" The name however does sound familiar. I think I might have known a Marion.

"She was a nurse at the same hospital my mother worked at. She had a baby and her husband ran out on her. She had no one to look after Jimmy and my mother upgraded me to babysitter. Do you remember now?"

I search my mind, hunting down elusive memories, which refuse to be caught – yet. "I know those names…" I don't remember the faces to go with the names, but the things Steve is telling me seem familiar. Little Jimmy… yes…

"As you noticed earlier, I'm really bad with infants. They probably sense my unease when holding them, so Jimmy always started to cry when my mum told me to look after him. I tried. I really did. I didn't want to disappoint her. Jobs were hard to come by in those days, for women especially, and I wanted to help," Steve continues.

I slowly nod, as some memories are growing clearer in my mind. I'm starting to remember bits and pieces. "Jimmy wailed each time you just got near him. I still wonder why."

"But he loved Bucky." Steve looks at Clint and Laura and grins. "The moment I put Jimmy in Bucky's arms, he stopped screaming and went back to sleep. My mum didn't want Bucky to hang out at our place the entire day, telling him he had to go home, do his homework and house chores, but the moment she left, I opened the window at the back of the apartment and Bucky would sneak back in. I was desperate for little Jimmy to stop screaming and Bucky was the answer."

"I actually remember that," I say, experiencing a deep sense of wonder. I didn't know that particular memory actually existed until a moment ago. It's a good memory though and worth holding onto.

"You can hand him to me. I need to feed him."

I can tell Laura isn't thrilled by the prospect of Nate throwing another tantrum and I take pity on her. Reaching out with my bionic arm feels wrong, but I still do it. "I'll feed him, and if you show me where to find his cradle, I'll try to get him to sleep." I can't believe I'm doing this. "It appears I have ample experience babysitting." She exchanges a quick look with Clint and then eagerly hands me the bottle.

"You DO know how to do this?" she wants to know.

"I do," I reassure her. Nate eagerly starts to drink and his blue eyes settle on me. He looks utterly content.

"Babies are great judges of character too," Clint whispers and smiles.

I quickly avert my gaze, not ready yet to accept what he's telling me. He must be wrong - he has to be!

0000

"Thanks," Laura says and gives me a grateful look. "Feel free to play babysitter whenever you want."

I gently place Nate into the crib and then step back so she can take over covering him with a thin blanket. I'm still not sure what to think of this. I can't deny the baby genuinely seems to like me, but I make a poor babysitter. It's too bad the little guy dislikes Steve. He would be a much better choice.

"How's your headache?" she inquires softly as she switches on a night light.

I still feel uneasy around her. I'm unused to dealing with women. Romanoff doesn't count as she's different. She's a fighter, a warrior, and quite different from someone like Laura. I used to be able to charm the ladies with words, but these days, I feel badly equipped when it comes down to talking to them. Recalling she asked me a question, I realize I should answer her. "It's not that bad anymore." It's more like a dull throbbing sensation now. The pain lost its sting. "Maybe that tea helped." I can't be sure though.

"I'll brew you another cup. Let's see if you continue to improve."

Laura beckons me to follow her into the corridor and leaves the door to the baby's room ajar. "Why don't you and Steve move onto the porch? It's nice out there this time of the day."

"You don't have to –" Again, her very look shuts me up. She isn't going to take no for an answer.

0000

"Laura told me to bring you this and to keep you company." Steve steps onto the porch, carefully balancing a tray.

When Laura told me to sit on the swing on the porch, I didn't consider objecting. I just followed orders and this time I did so gladly. Steve places the tray on the side table and sits down next to me, causing the swing to move.

"I don't think I ever sat on one of these before," Steve mumbles absentmindedly.

"I like it." I like the gentle rocking movement. It has the power to lure me into sleep though and I need to be careful. "How's the brat from hell doing?" I reach for my tea and find that Laura added chocolate chip cookies to the tray. That woman must really feel grateful toward me.

"He's asleep. So far he didn't wake up and both parents are grateful you managed to tame the monster."

Steve makes me smile and I blow onto the surface of the tea to help it cool down. "I didn't remember Jimmy until you told me about him." Steve takes hold of his coffee and sips carefully, cursing because it's still too hot. I'm tempted to tease him by reminding him to watch his language, but I'm not in the mood for it. I haven't felt this much at peace for a long time.

"I gathered as much." Steve moves closer and wraps an arm around me. "Is this okay?"

"Sure, why wouldn't it be?" I rest my head against his shoulder. The sun is setting rapidly and it will grow dark within the next thirty minutes. "I like it here," I admit. "I didn't think I would."

"Do you still think you pose a danger to them?"

That question has no easy answer, I'm afraid. "I hope not, but I still fear for the worst. I'm afraid of what will happen if I revert to… "

"To what?" Steve urges me on.

"I don't know… I don't think I'll revert to becoming the Winter Soldier, but…"

"You can't hurt a fly," Steve says reassuringly. "Stop driving yourself mad."

"You WILL keep an eye on me tonight? Make sure I don't leave the room?"

"I haven't caught you sleepwalking yet," Steve reminds me.

"Just because it hasn't happened yet, it doesn't mean it won't happen in the future. You need to keep that in mind." I sip from the herbal tea again. I think Laura might be right; my headache is almost gone. I need to find out what she puts into that herbal blend. "It's peaceful out here. Quite different from Bucharest."

"Which reminds me, Frenchie is having the time of his life. He's getting long walks, a lot of treats, and belly rubs. Those kids are spoiling him rotten."

"He'll have a good home here. The kids love him and Clint accepts him. Frenchie can grow old here." Steve gasps and when I look up at him, I wonder about his frown.

"You don't plan on keeping him?"

"Stevie, think about it. What kind of life would he have? I'm on the run and I refuse to drag him along from place to place. This is a great home with good people to watch over him."

"I'm sure they'll happily adopt him, but… Frenchie is YOUR dog."

"Animals aren't possessions, Steve…"

"Yeah, I know that, but Frenchie chose to stay with you. You told me that yourself."

"It doesn't really matter," I say and shamelessly cuddle up to him now that no one is watching. "We're stuck here for the time being at any rate." I put down the now empty mug and close my eyes. "I never heard crickets like that before." It starts softly, the chirping, and then it grows in intensity. "We're really in the countryside. You don't hear this kind of thing in the city."

"You really like it here," Steve says with some measure of surprise in his voice.

"Why wouldn't I? It's open country, no high rises with snipers possibly hiding there. You can actually see the first stars that will fill the heavens later. It's peaceful out there, so what's not to like?" I never wanted to fight wars; I'm not a soldier at heart. The second World War and later Hydra turned me into one. I always imagined myself settling down with someone, preferably Stevie, and working a normal, nine to five job.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." Clint steps onto the porch, closely followed by Frenchie.

The dog lies down close to my feet, rests his head on his paws, and closes his eye. He looks happy. "Nah, you're not," I reassure him. "Is Nate still asleep?"

"Yeah, and I doubt he'll wake up soon. Thanks again for that." Clint pulls up a chair and sits down straddling it. "I hope the wildlife won't keep you awake tonight. It's only crickets now, but later, the frogs will start and you may even hear some howling wolfs. We're kinda in the middle of nowhere. Laura even has to home school the kids."

"This is a good place to raise them. Lots of nature, little civilization. I hope the enemy won't find you here." This little family deserves some peace and quiet as far as I'm concerned. That thought causes me to worry about the upcoming night. There's no way of knowing what will happen once I'm asleep. "You should lock my door," I tell him. "You don't want me on the prowl tonight."

"I'll sleep with one eye open," Clint replies. "Not because I don't trust you or think it's necessary, but because you'll probably sleep better if I do. I talked it over with Laura earlier and she agrees with me. You don't pose a threat to us."

"You have no idea," I whisper and shake my head.

"Give yourself some credit," Steve says firmly. "You haven't attacked or endangered anyone! Your arm locks down when you don't feel yourself. That should tell you something!"

"It's not as simple as the two of you make it sound." I am losing the argument though and I decide to keep quiet. Protesting won't get me anywhere. A moment later, Cooper and Lila step onto the porch and smile at me. It's rather obvious they want something from me; Frenchie's presence probably.

"We want to say goodnight," Cooper says, bravely looking me in the eye. "And we wondered if Frenchie can sleep in our room."

"If that's what he wants." I need to get used to no longer having that dog around, so starting now is for the best.

"Thanks!" Lila exclaims happily. "Frenchie, come here, boy!"

Frenchie however doesn't seem inclined to move. "Frenchie, listen to them, Move it." I don't want the kids to end up disappointed. Frenchie however merely tilts his head and looks at me. Then he settles down again and goes back to dozing. "I'm sorry," I tell the kids who give me a defeated look. "But he doesn't want to." I notice the look Clint gives his children and Cooper reacts at once.

"That's okay. He's your dog. Dad promised us a dog of our own. We just need to wait a little longer. The dog he picked is still a pup and needs to stay with his mother a little longer."

"Is that true?" I ask Clint. I hope Cooper isn't making anything up.

"Yeah, they're getting a Labrador once the pup is old enough. And now, off to bed with you and pray the little monster won't wake up!"

The kids chuckle, wave goodbye at us, and disappear inside. Clint gets to his feet too.

"I should probably help the missus to put them to bed. I'll see you in the morning. I'll let you sleep in. Just come downstairs when you're ready. Laura will be out, as she needs to get some groceries, but I'm pretty good at whipping up an omelet."

I know he means well, but I doubt he will still want me at his breakfast table after tonight. I just pray to God that I won't hurt anyone.

0000

I feel strangely shy upon stepping in our new bedroom. Steve is already in bed, reading. There's a bookcase close to the window, stuffed with all types of books. I also checked it out earlier. Steve must have gotten bored while I was in the bathroom getting ready for the night. Someone removed the razor from the sink, because it wasn't there when I brushed my teeth just now. I still feel guilty for misbehaving earlier. I forgot who I am and I instantly reverted back to my old submissive state. How I hate that.

I decided against going to bed naked, basically because I feel odd about being that intimate with Steve. It's something I fantasized and dreamed of in the distant past, but now that it has become reality, I'm not sure how to handle the situation.

"What are you waiting for?" Steve pushes back the comforter and wiggles an eyebrow.

A sigh escapes me and I head toward the bed. I sit down on the side with my back to Steve. Why am I this nervous? We slept in the same bed before. Because it's different now, I realize. Steve declared his love for me and we went from friends to potential lovers. If only I didn't carry that much baggage around with me, then this would be easier.

"Aren't you sleepy? I caught you yawning earlier."

Steve puts the book onto the nightstand, but doesn't approach me. Maybe he realizes I need time – and some distance. "Yeah, I am, but…" I know I need to tell him I'm nervous, but I don't want him to think that I don't want to be around him. "This isn't easy," I admit eventually, carefully staring at the wall so I don't accidentally make eye contact. I couldn't deal with the hurt look in his eyes. "I've been a loner for so long and since you told me you that… love me… I feel out of my league. It's too much."

"I get that," Steve says as he moves onto his knees behind me. "I won't push you. I just want you to know that I love you and that I'm willing to wait."

"You already waited forever," I reply, feeling guilty for making him wait even longer. I'm okay with touching and kissing, no matter how overwhelming that feels, but that's about it. It's a huge change from being Hydra's asset.

"Why don't you lie down and we get some sleep? I have the feeling Clint will find ways to keep us busy tomorrow. And I'm not even mentioning that Laura probably counts on you to keep baby Nate quiet and asleep."

Steve moves closer and kisses the back of my neck. He moves the hair out of the way and rests his head on my shoulder, tenderly caressing my face with his fingertips. I swallow nervously. This is exactly what I'm talking about. I want this – I want the intimacy, but at the same time it scares the hell out of me. "Stevie…"

"I get it, I really do, but you need to trust me. I know that's asking a lot, but I have your best interest in mind. I mean it."

"I know that, it's just… I've been alone for so long." Knowing that I have to face him sooner or later, I look at him from over my shoulder. "I don't know how to do this. I don't want to disappoint you or –" Steve shakes his head at me and I go quiet.

"I'm just happy to have you here with me. You don't have to act a certain way. Don't force yourself to act a certain way when you don't feel like it. I know what you have been through these last seventy years and I don't expect you to embrace all this. I KNOW that. I know you need time and that's fine with me."

I appreciate his effort to reassure me and smile weakly. I'm still worried I'll do something wrong. Steve gently pulls me down with him and we end up face to face, and on our sides, with Steve lazily draping his arm across my hip. He pulls up the comforter and grins at me. I can tell he's happy.

"Get some sleep, Buck. Things will look different in the morning; they always do."

"You WILL keep an eye on me, won't you? Make sure I don't leave the room. I don't want to endanger anyone." The possibility of me injuring the kids or Laura really worries me. Clint can probably fight me off, but not the rest of the family.

"I will," Steve promises and kisses my brow. "Now get some sleep."

Steve takes to stroking my back and it does relax me. I want to fight my fatigue, but fail at it. My eyes close and I drift off into sleep.

0000

I wake up during the night because there a noise I can't identify. Steve is sound asleep, so I don't wake him yet. I carefully free myself of his embrace. He tends to snuggle up to me and uses his arms and legs to trap me. I sit up and try to identify the source of that odd noise. Frenchie, who sometime during the night, curled up near the foot end of the bed, opens his eye and gives me a puzzled look. "Go back to sleep," I tell him, but when I get to my feet, Frenchie does the same thing. He jumps onto the floor and stretches. I hope he knows that I'm not taking him for a walk. Steve is still asleep, which tells me he must have been exhausted. He probably didn't get much sleep while watching me the previous nights.

Then I hear it again. It's a baby – wailing. Nate probably woke up and now wants his mummy. I debate what to do. Laura or Clint are probably already on their way over to the nursery, so there is no reason for me to get involved. Although, Laura did look tired earlier and Nate calmed down when I held him, so maybe I should offer my assistance. Then again, I don't trust myself around the baby.

The wailing suddenly picks up in volume and it urges me on. I make my way over to the nursery and am surprised that neither Clint, nor Laura, are there yet. They left the door ajar and I open it further. Nate is in his crib, crying his heart out. I do hope he doesn't need a new diaper. I have little experience in that department.

Frenchie gives me an expectant look and I shake my head at him. I shouldn't be doing this. What if the Winter Soldier suddenly returns or I lose myself in a flashback? I would be endangering the baby. I should get one of the parents instead. They must hear him too!

In the end, I cave in, and walk over to the crib. "Hey, what's wrong? Why don't you go back to sleep?" Nate suddenly grows quiet and those big blue eyes fasten on me. He raises his chubby arms and reaches for me. When he realizes I'm too far away, he starts to wail again. "Don't do that, please!" I quickly pick him up and rock him in my arms. A quick check tells me that he doesn't need his diaper changed – thank God for small mercies! —and I wonder what to do next. There's a rocking chair in the corner…

I suspect that Nate will start crying again the moment I put him back into his crib. I need to make sure he's asleep before I even attempt that. In the end, I sit down in the rocking chair, hoping the rocking motion will further soothe the baby. "What's wrong with you? Why do you keep crying?" Little Jimmy cried because he was teething. Nate looks about that age, but I can't be sure.

Nate refuses to settle down at first. I cradle him against my chest, but he doesn't like it and keeps moving about. He only settles down once he's pressed against my bionic arm. For some reason, he seems to like it and sucks on it, leaving drool all over it. Well, if it works for him, I won't stop him, although I feel uncomfortable, realizing only too well how much damage I can do with that arm.

After several minutes, Nate's eyes close and he's back asleep. Even in his sleep, he tries to maul my arm though, alternating between sucking and chewing on it, which is odd, since he has no teeth. So maybe he IS teething after all.

Now that the baby is happily asleep again, I rest the back of my head against the comfort of the rocking chair and I close my eyes in bliss. I can't bear hearing the little guy cry like that. It's nice that it's quiet again – peaceful and Nate feels odd in my arms, a reassuring presence lying atop of my bionic arm. There's no harm in briefly resting my eyes. I'll put him back into his crib and head back to the bedroom in a few minutes…

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

Waking up in bed alone alarms me. Bucky is gone and I have no idea where to find him. I vowed to keep an eye on him and I forsook him. He's going to be howling mad with me. I get to my feet and notice Frenchie is gone as well, and that fact reassures me. That dog has a calming influence on Bucky. Now, where did he go and how do I find him?

This calls for a plan. I'll start on the ground floor and then work my way up. Let's hope he didn't leave the house, because then I have a serious problem on my hands. I search the hallway, kitchen, living area and utility room on the ground floor, but there's no Bucky.

So I move on to the second floor. I decide to check on the kids first. Cooper and Lila are asleep, so I move onto the nursery. I'm not surprised to see Clint standing in the doorway. What does surprise me is the fact that he's smiling broadly. "Clint, Bucky is missing. Did you see him?"

Clint gestures for me to be quiet and to join him. I sneak over to him on tiptoes, and when he points into the room, I check on the nursery. The first thing I see is the empty crib and then Bucky sitting in the rocking chair with baby Nate peacefully asleep in his arms. Nate is drooling all over Bucky's arm, and once a while, he appears to bite it. "What's happening?" I whisper, careful not to wake up the sleepers.

"Nate is teething. That's why he wakes up and cries the whole time. Apparently Bucky's arm is just what he needs. It's cold and perfect for cooling his gums."

Clint's explanation makes me grin. "Just wait until Buck hears that."

"I'm surprised he hasn't woken up yet. I thought he would be on alert."

I shrug. "He's exhausted, though he's getting a lot more sleep these days. His nightmares are growing less frequent and less intense. These days, he actually sleeps most of the night."

"I respect him for fighting his way back into life. That can't be easy. Loki controlled me for only a few days. Your friend suffered for decades. I can't even begin to envision what that does to someone."

"I know what you mean," I tell Clint and watch Bucky sleep. "I told him that he's a hero for not giving up. He doesn't believe me. He has a hard time understanding that I admire his courage. I'm not sure I'd even want to fight back if I were in his shoes. It helps that we admitted we're in love."

"Yeah, Laura told me about that. I didn't believe her at first, but once I saw the way the two of you looked at each other, I had to pay up."

"You bet?" I chuckle softly and wonder what Bucky thinks of that.

"Only for ten bucks," Clint says and returns the grin. "It's nice to see you in love for a change. I never figured out why you didn't make a pass at Nat or Sharon. Now I get it. You were pining for Bucky, even when you didn't know he was alive."

I feel caught. "I once told Peggy I was waiting for the right person to come along, but the truth is that dating didn't feel right. I always knew that Bucky was the only one for me, so when I lost him, I made my peace with being on my own for the rest of my life. I liked Peggy - a lot, and I never wanted to hurt her feelings. I just couldn't act on them. My feelings for Buck were stronger." I never imagined opening up to Clint of all people, but he IS easy to talk to.

"I'm happy for both of you, and so is Laura. Don't let him slip away though. He's full of self-doubt. You need to keep a close eye on him."

"I will," I promise. "Shouldn't I wake him so you can put Nate back into his crib?"

"If it were up to me, I would let them sleep, but Bucky will feel wretched if he spends the entire night in that rocking chair, so go ahead and wake him."

Bucky will probably throw a fit about the fact that I didn't stop him when he left the room, but I'm up for that confrontation. I move into the room and lean in closer so I can whisper into his ear. I need to be careful about this.

"Bucky? Buck, wake up for me. Come on, Bucky, listen to me and open your eyes. You're safe and all is well, but I need you to wake up for me NOW." The moment I speak that last word, those blues open and stare at me in wonder. Bucky clearly has no idea where he is. What he does know – instinctively – is that he needs to protect the baby, as he gently moves him closer to his chest.

"What?"

Bucky looks about, obviously disorientated, and grows worried at seeing Clint walk up to him. I need to reassure him before he panics. "Nate was crying and you came here to soothe him. Even Frenchie tagged along," I point out and tilt my head toward the dog.

"I did what?" Looking down, Bucky grows aware of Nate's presence and startles. "Fuck!"

"Language," I chide him, half in jest, half earnestly. Bucky wouldn't be Bucky without the swearing, but there's a baby about.

"The little guy is teething and your left arm feels cold. It helps deal with the pain he's in when he can cool his gum," Clint explains patiently.

"Please take him," Bucky says softly, as he doesn't want to wake the baby. "What's wrong with me for doing this?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Clint replies and gives Bucky a fatherly smile. "You heard him cry and had to help. You have great parental instincts."

Clint's words stun Bucky, who blinks in disbelief. "I agree with Clint," I add. "But you'll wreck your neck sleeping in that chair. Let's put Nate back into his crib." Bucky still looks panicked and seems desperate for Clint to take Nate from him, but Clint merely gestures at the crib. "Bucky?"

Bucky sighs, gets to his feet, and carefully places Nate back in the crib. Clint moves in and makes sure his son rests comfortably. Bucky looks riled up and needs to vent before we can head back to bed. "Maybe you want to sit on the porch for a while? You like it out there," I suggest.

Clint nods approvingly and says, "Remember to lock up after you." He shoos us out of the room and leaves the door ajar so he can check on Nate if necessary. "Laura told me to thank you for saving her from another sleepless night. I'll see you guys at breakfast."

Clint returns to the bedroom, which leaves the two of us standing in the corridor. If we talk here, Nate will wake up again, so I pull Bucky toward the stairs and then lead him out onto the porch. I sit down on the swing and Bucky reluctantly sits down next to me. Frenchie stretches and then curls up next to the swing.

I need to stop Bucky from making this worse than it is. I know what he's like. "Clint is right, you know. Nate knows you want to protect and help him." Bucky however shakes his head, just as I expected.

"That's bullshit," Bucky says and stares out into the distance.

The fact that he grows silent worries me. I expected him to rave. "What happened?" Bucky sighs and then hangs his head. He looks defeated, but why?

"I woke up because he was crying. I hoped Clint or Laura would check on him, but then he wailed even louder. I couldn't bear it no longer and had to check on the little guy. His parents weren't in sight, and since Laura looked so tired I wanted to help by making him go asleep again. I should never have picked him up. I should have left him in his crib. What I did was highly irresponsible. I could have hurt him!"

"No, you can't hurt anyone. Don't you see that? Your first instinct was to protect Nate when I woke you up. You didn't want to attack me, or Clint. You cradled Nate against your chest and were ready to fight to the death if necessary. Trust me, I know what that particular expression means." I can tell I haven't totally convinced him yet. He is giving me that stubborn look, telling me it's not working.

"Bucky, when you woke up, your first instinct was to check on the baby – not to kill anyone. You need to accept that you're not evil. Hydra succeeded in pulling your strings for a long time, but you're free now and the truth is that you're a good man, a kind man. I couldn't love you if you weren't all that. It's the reason why I love you in the first place – because you have a good heart. After everything you've been through, all you can think about is to soothe a teething baby. Buck, give yourself some credit, please! You know this. You MUST know in your heart that it is true!"

I study him closely and I'm pretty sure I'm finally getting through. Buck might not believe me yet, but he IS considering giving himself some leeway. "Buck, you're not evil. Even Nat no longer thinks so. Sam, who was quite upsetting with you for destroying his car on that bridge, knows you had no choice when you did that. Clint and Laura trust you with their children. What are the chances that we're all such bad judges of character? Can't you consider the possibility that you're a good person?"

"It's hard," Bucky replies and raises his head, finally making eye contact. "After all this time with Hydra, I've grown used to being their weapon."

"That's in the past," I quickly tell him. "You're with me now. Your life has changed big time. Hydra no longer has a part in it. You're finding yourself again. Don't be scared of that person. I'm pretty sure you'll like him." I suspect we hit a breaking point. Bucky will either believe me or continue to think of himself as dangerous. What is it going to be? It frustrates me that all I can do is wait. This is a decision HE has to make. Bucky moistens his lips and looks conflicted. I tell myself to be patient.

"Stevie, what you're asking is impossible."

"No, it isn't." I wait and don't pressure him. However, I do slip my hand into his and hold onto it.

"You're asking me to forgive myself and move on. How can I do that after killing so many people?"

His pained expression is killing me. It will take time for Bucky to even to start to think differently about himself. "Because it wasn't your decision to kill them. Hydra forced you to kill them. You couldn't stop those murders, even if you wanted to. You're another victim in this, not a villain."

Bucky sighs and closes his eyes. "Accepting that means taking the easy way out."

"That isn't the easy way out, damn it!" I'm losing my patience. "This is the fight of your life, Buck. Either it kills you or you fight back. The choice is yours." I can only support him and be the voice of reason. Realizing I might be pushing him too hard, I slowly pull him against me and wrap him up in an embrace. "You mean everything to me, Bucky. You mean the world to me." I tuck his head beneath my chin and hold him as tightly as I dare. "I love you."

Bucky sighs deeply and finally relinquishes resistance by melting against me. He remains silent, but I know him well enough to realize he's thinking everything over. He will ponder the matter for quite some time before making his decision and I'm fine with that. The fact that he's considering that I might be right is encouraging.

"Can we stay out here a little longer? I like being in the open."

I know that Bucky finds requesting things for himself still challenging, so I immediately give in, thrilled that he feels safe enough to ask me that, especially considering the difficult topic we just discussed. "Of course." I kiss the top of his head and pull him partly atop of me. We make ourselves comfortable and I'm pretty sure we will spend the rest of the night out here. "Do you think you can go back to sleep? You need the rest." And so do I.

"Maybe, I'll try. I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"You were good, Buck. You helped little Nate go back to sleep. You did everything right. Let it go and stop beating yourself up over nothing." Bucky remains quiet, but his breathing slows down, indicating he's following my advice. I patiently wait for him to fall asleep and draw in a deep breath, which I then slowly release. I'm beginning to get through to him, I just know it. Now I need to hang in there. He needs to know he can depend on me. The moment I let him down, he will go back to doubting himself and I don't want that. We passed that stage. We need to move forward now.

0000

I stayed awake this time. Not because I'm troubled, but because I'm no longer sleepy. Holding Bucky in my arms and guarding his sleep is the most fulfilling job I ever had and I want to do this for the rest of my life.

The sun is rising and those first beams of light provide much desired warmth. It did grow cold during the night. The cold doesn't bother me and I doubt it hampers Bucky. It still irritates me that I don't know a thing about Zola's serum. Maybe I should ring Nat later today and see what they found out so far. I also want to know who is trying to frame Bucky and why.

"Morning," Laura says as she steps onto the porch. She probably just got up as she's still wearing her morning robe. Her hair is also a mess, but she doesn't seem to mind. I like her laid back attitude.

"Good morning to you too," I reply and smile at her. "Time to get up?"

"Maybe," she concedes and looks at Bucky. "How is he doing? Clint told me what happened last night. When I heard Nate cry I told Clint to wait a little longer before checking on him. I had the feeling Bucky might do want to do it instead."

"It means a lot to me that you trust him," I tell her, and the respect that I feel for her deepens. "Buck's a great guy. You should have known him before Hydra got their dirty hands on him."

"I believe you," Laura says reassuringly. "I'm going to make breakfast. You might want to wake him and join us in the kitchen. Cooper and Lila took Frenchie for a walk, so it's just the four of us."

Looking at the floor, I realize Frenchie is gone, which is fine with me, as he stayed with Bucky when he needed him most. Laura gives me a parting smile and then heads inside, which leaves me with the task of waking up Bucky, but hold on… His breathing changed during my chat with Laura and I swear he's awake already. "Buck?" I wonder what kind of mood he's in.

"Morning," he whispers and then looks up.

His expression is odd and I don't know what to make of it. "Did you get some good quality sleep? As far as I can tell you had no nightmares and slept comfortably."

"After our little talk," he says cautiously.

Bucky bringing up that talk by himself surprises me. Normally making him talk feels like pulling teeth. "Yeah, after our little talk. Do you remember the things I told you?" Let's see how far he's willing to take this.

Bucky nods slowly. "I remember it."

He's behaving in an odd way and I don't know what to think of that. "Did you hear Laura just now?"

"Yeah, she told us to join them for breakfast."

He still has a strange expression on his face, which I can't identify. "Did you also hear her say that she waited with checking on Nate to see if you would do so instead?" Bucky nods again. He slowly untangles himself, gets to his feet, and stretches. His t-shirt rides up and shows more skin. Damn, my hormones act up accordingly and I can only think of taking him in my arms and have my wicked way with him.

"I did," Bucky confirms and the nature of his expression changes again. His eyes narrow and he zooms in on me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." I sound hoarse for some reason and I'm suddenly way more interested in eating Bucky than having breakfast. I had a couple of one night stands since they freed me from the ice, but I made sure I never went to bed with the same guy twice. I didn't want to give them any false hope.

"I don't believe you," Bucky says and gives me a scrutinizing look. "Confess up."

"I want you, damn it," escapes me unintentionally. "What do you think is wrong with me? I want to lay you down and make love to you. I want to touch you, run my hands all over your body, and make you come." Bucky blushes; I probably shouldn't have said that, but it's the truth. I'm hard and doing my best not to give into the arousal. Bucky averts his gaze and turns shy. He hesitantly looks at me and bites down on his bottom lip; it tells me he's nervous.

"I want that too, but…"

"I know that." I reassure him and get to my feet. At exactly that moment his stomach growls loudly and breaks the tension between us. "Let's have breakfast. You need to eat."

Bucky raises his right arm and unexpectedly reaches for my hand. He curls his fingers around it and gives me a timid smile. It's good to know he wants this too. I just need to be patient. I'm quite sure we'll get there eventually.

0000

"Good morning!" Clint says cheerfully and gestures for us to sit down at the kitchen table. "Hungry?"

"Bucky is," I say, chuckling because at exactly that moment Bucky's stomach growls again. Bucky looks embarrassed and probably wishes I had let him get dressed before having breakfast. He was determined to freshen up first and get dressed, but I love seeing him so casually, just dressed in an oversized T-shirt. Not that I'm better off, wearing only a T-shirt too.

Bucky sits down quickly, probably happy to be using the shelter the kitchen table provides. I don't recall him being that shy; he never showed off his body either, but he wasn't ashamed of it. I reckon living in captivity for seventy years changed him in more ways than one.

"Here, dig in and don't worry, there's more," Laura says as she places plates filled to the brim in front of us.

It has everything I could wish for; scrambled egg, bacon, toast, cheese, and even some fruit to give it a healthy touch. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Bucky says when she presents him with an identical plate.

"What do you want to drink?" Clint asks as he heads over to the coffee maker.

"Coffee for me," I happily say and after looking at Bucky, I add, "Milk for him."

"Milk?" Clint chuckles. "You sure about that?" he asks Bucky.

"I'd love some milk," Bucky confirms, just as I knew he would.

"Milk it is then." Clint pours the milk and puts the glass in front of Bucky. "Any plans for the day?" he inquires as he sits down and returns to sipping his coffee.

"I plan on calling Nat sometime today. I need to know what she found out so far. I also want to know who's trying to frame Buck and why." I didn't realize I was hungry until I started eating and I'm well on my way to cleaning the plate. Bucky eats a lot slower and seems to savor the food a lot more. I guess it's another Hydra legacy.

"Good idea," Clint comments. "Anything else?"

I wonder what he's after. "Want us to babysit Nate? Is that it?" I grin at Bucky and wiggle an eyebrow.

"I'd love to – if you want me to," Bucky offers shyly.

"You're welcome to babysit tonight, but I think you should spend the day outdoors. The weather forecast is great and you'd benefit from some exercise. Sitting around the house will only make you edgy."

Clint is right; I'm impressed. "I like that idea. How about a long walk?" Bucky doesn't seem convinced, but then nods. I know he prefers to be in the open. "Anything we need to be careful of?" I inquire, unsure what kind of defenses Clint was referring to yesterday.

"Nah, you're fine. Don't forget to pack water and food. I'll even give you guys a map so you won't get lost." Clint winks at us. "And you might want to put some clothes on too."

Looking over at Bucky, I find he's smiling. I'm grateful that Clint has such a soothing effect on him. Hopefully we can stay here for a few more days. I have the feeling it would do Bucky a world of good.

0000

While Bucky is busy in the bathroom, I decide to call Nat. "Hello, Nat. How are things in New York?" She chuckles at the other end.

"As well as can be expected. Tony wants to know where I took you two, but I'm not telling him that. He's still angry with Barnes. I'm trying to explain to Tony that your friend had no say in the matter, but Tony is being his familiar stubborn self. So, I'm making him watch footage of Hydra messing with your buddy's head. It's ugly, Steve, the things they did to him. They told him that he was part of that machine and that Hydra created him. Barnes never knew the truth until you came along. They brainwashed him into believing that the machine and he were one and that Hydra was his creator and owner. It will take Tony some time to fully understand Hydra's manipulation, but I have faith in him. By the way, how is Barnes doing?"

I'm relieved to hear that she is acting in Bucky's best interest. Considering the fact that the Winter Soldier almost killed her twice, I wasn't completely sure that she had forgiven him; that she understood that Bucky and the Winter Soldier are two different personalities. "He's having a hard time adjusting, as you can imagine. He's afraid to hurt people accidentally, but basically he's back to being the Bucky I always knew. Little Nate loves Bucky. His bionic arm is the perfect cold spot where he can cool his hurting gum because he's teething. The moment Bucky starts rocking him, Nate goes to sleep. Laura is quite taken with Bucky being here as you can understand." She giggles and damn, it feels good to be in touch with her again. "Any news about the scam? Any clues to who is setting him up and why?"

"Just one. Yesterday we discovered a dead body. The UN is already preparing for the day they arrest Bucky and so they called in a psychologist to evaluate Barnes. He's been murdered. We found him in his hotel room. Staff said they remember a different guy checking in on the psychologist's name. He was quite charming and had an east-European accent. They're working on a composition drawing and we got a detailed description. Nick already searched Shield's files for a match, but so far we didn't find a thing."

"What do you think will happen next?" Nat is much better at these games than I, so I need her advice. "Should we stay put?"

"I want to continue talking some sense into Tony. We might need him later. Thankfully Pepper is on my side, so Tony has little choice but to give this a chance. And yes, stay put. No one is going to find you at Clint's farm. Take some days off, go hiking for all I care. There's a little lake nearby. Go swimming. Maybe it will help Barnes find his way back."

"Thanks for everything, Nat. I really appreciate it." I'm grateful to have a friend like hers. "Thanks for doing this for me."

"Yeah, Rogers, keep sucking up to me… I'll call you tomorrow. Now take Barnes out on a date!"

Her comment makes me smile and I end the call. Except for the death of that consulting psychologist there isn't anything new. Why kill the guy? Of course, he would be able to get close to Bucky while questioning him. So our villain wants to question Bucky; he is after some sort of information. Which he isn't going to get. No way am I letting our mystery assassin get close to the man I love!

"Stevie?

I get to my feet and make my way over to the bathroom door. The catch to Bucky's voice puts me on alert. "What's up?" I push the door further ajar and take in the scene. Bucky's staring at his reflection and a pained expression appeared in his eyes. Is something wrong?

"This stubble is beginning to irritate me," he says and runs his right hand across his chin. "I need a shave."

I recall the flashback he suffered when he happened upon the razor the other day. I think I know what this is about. "Want me to take care of it?" For some reason, he can't deal with handling a razor, so I'll do it for him.

"Yes, please."

Bucky looks incredibly relieved. I uncover the razor and shaving cream and consider the best way to do this. "Is there anything I should be aware of while doing this? I don't want to unwillingly trigger a memory."

"I honestly don't know. Rumlow always told me to keep still."

I swallow hard. Rumlow, the traitor. I thought he was a friend, but behind my back he helped Hydra torture Bucky. While I'm soaking the shaving brush and getting the shaving cream ready, I tell Bucky to wet his face with warm water. He does as he's told, but that vacant stare made its return and I doubt he's actually aware of what he's doing.

I wait till I reach the right consistence where the lather is concerned and use the brush to apply it to his face. I try to catch his gaze, but Bucky's definitely shutting me out and I accept that. He needs to do what works for him. Now we move onto the hard part. I raise the razor and wait for a reaction on Bucky's part, but he continues to stare at the wall. I proceed with extreme caution, knowing just feeling the razor slide across his face can cause a violent flashback, but nothing happens.

I finish as quickly as I can and then remove the remaining shaving cream from his face. I use some of my own after shave and finish up. "All done," I tell him, hoping he can actually hear me. Bucky blinks, draws in a deep breath, and gives me a shaky look.

"Already?" He looks stunned, like he didn't expect everything to go so smoothly.

"Yeah, I'm a genius," I say and give him a wink, hoping it will help him relax. "You look even more handsome now, though I must admit I was getting used to the stubble." I silently applaud him for taking this step, knowing how difficult this must be. Did he experience a flashback? Is he trying to deal with it alone? "How are you doing, Buck? Any unpleasant memories?"

"No, I switched off for a while."

"You did what?" I stare at him in puzzlement. He switched off?

"I always did that when they got me out of cryo and ready for my next mission. I wasn't allowed to do anything by myself, so they cleaned me up, shaved me, cut my hair if they thought it necessary, and dressed me."

Bucky shrugs like he doesn't care, but I don't buy it. He's hurting. "Well, all that is over and done with. Since I don't plan on doing any of those things, you'll have to do it yourself. We will get you an electric shaver, that might make things easier on you." Bucky suddenly frowns, actually considering it.

"That might help," he admits. "I hate being unable to do this for myself."

I can imagine that only too well. We'll find a way for him to shave. "Why don't you get dressed for a little hiking trip? I'll pack some supplies and then we're ready to go." Bucky looks down at himself and only now realizes he's only wearing socks and boxers.

"Yeah, I should probably do that." Bucky leans in closer and my heart misses a beat when he presses a kiss onto my lips. "Thanks for helping me out and not making fun of me."

"If that's my reward for helping you out, I volunteer my services for the rest of my life," I whisper happily and wish he would kiss me again. But I told him to get dressed and so he makes his way back to the bedroom to check out his wardrobe. Well, there will be more kisses in the future, I'm sure of that.

0000

"Use this if you need to contact me. Your cell won't work outside the house."

I stuff the little gadget into my backpack. I'm ready for our little adventure, but I'm not sure Bucky is. "Hey, we'll be back before the night falls. Then you can go back to babysitting little Nate," I say teasingly. Sometimes, I just don't get Bucky. He admits that he loves being in the open and now that he has the chance to get away from it all, he hesitates.

"I know that," Bucky admits and falls into step with me when I walk away from the house. "But I like them. I like their place. It's peaceful and quiet."

"Except for when little Nate starts crying," I continue our banter. "Oh, look, the lost son returns!" Frenchie runs up to us, barks at Bucky, and then takes up position next to him, almost as if guarding him. "You got your very own body guard," I joke and incline my head toward him.

"Does that mean I have two then?" Bucky shyly whispers.

I grin smugly. "Does that mean I'm your number one body guard?" I'm relieved we're back to bantering. I love that.

"Always," he says, blushing slightly.

I love it that he can still grow flustered after everything he went through. "I love you," I tell him, just to remind him and take his left hand in mine. The vibranium feels odd, especially when you expect to feel warm flesh instead, but I'll get used to it. It's a part of him and I love all of him, unconditionally.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10

We walk for about an hour and then sit down on a fallen tree trunk to take a break. Steve gets out the water and some bananas and offers me one. "A banana?" I can't remember the last time I had one. "Did Laura pack our supplies or did you?"

"We did so together. She insisted on adding healthy stuff."

Steve also uncovers a bag filled with chestnuts and hazelnuts. I shake my head at him and chuckle softly. It's great to be amongst normal people again. I forgot what that's like. I grab some nuts and eat them, while peeling the banana. This feels like something a normal person would do and I savor the experience. Frenchie runs about, looking thirsty, and I call him over so he can have some water too.

I wonder if I should bring up his phone call with Nate that morning. Steve probably didn't realize it, but I heard bits and pieces. If I don't do it now, I might never try again. "Did Romanoff have any news?" Maybe I shouldn't have done that. Maybe I should have stayed quiet. What if that question pisses Steve off? I still feel rather insecure and I don't want to get onto Steve's bad side. It's too late now.

"We got a murder on our hands. The consultant the UN hired to evaluate you has been murdered. They found him dead in his room. Someone else pretended to be him. Apparently he had a eastern-European accent. They're working on identifying him, but so far he hasn't turned up in Shield's data files."

I'm stunned that he offers that information so freely. I didn't expect that and try to hide my surprise, so he won't notice.

"Furthermore, Nat is trying to talk some sense into Tony. She's trying to make him see that it wasn't you, but the Winter Soldier, who killed his parents. It's a tough job. He found a file that shows the Winter Soldier staging their car accident. He saw your face. I get it that it's hard to make the distinction, but she's working on it."

I didn't expect that last bit at all. It brings back a truckload of guilt. "I killed them. I'm accountable for that. Stark is entitled to some payback."

"Do you really believe that?"

Steve's tone alerts me. I know that tone; he's upset, not just a little, but majorly upset. "I pulled the trigger, Steve. I did that."

"Not willingly," he points out and shifts towards me. "Bucky, Hydra forced you. You had no say in the matter. You are not to blame. If anyone stands accused of murder it's Hydra, not you."

I sigh. If only I could believe that. It's time to step away from discussing Stark's parents. "And what did Romanoff advise? That we stay put at the farm and keep our heads down?"

"Exactly… Though I have no idea why everyone is so pretty sure we won't be found here."

I might be able to help with that. "Ever since we left the house, I started to detect an electromagnetic power source. It gets stronger the further we move away from the farm. It probably keeps our presence from being detected." Steve gives me a puzzled look and I explain. "Hydra put a lot of hidden technology in my arm. That's why I can detect EMP's."

"Ah, I was wondering how you found out. Looks like we're hiding beneath an invisibility cloak."

I don't get that reference and give him a frustrated look.

"Don't worry, I'll explain Harry Potter to you when I get a hold of the books, since movies aren't an option. You might like them. You always were way more into reading than me."

"Didn't we take some art and literature classes, or am I mistaken?" I can't really rely on my memories and need to ask in order to make sure.

"We both took art. But you went solo with the literature course."

Hum, so I did remember correctly. "Are you still any good at drawing?" He used to be pretty good. Better than me, but then again, I did much better with the written word.

"It's been ages since I had to time to draw," Steve says in a melancholy voice. "Maybe I can borrow some paper and pencils from the kids. But only if you try too!"

The competitive factor is back all of sudden. He used to be like that when we were still teenagers. "I can try, although I probably suck at it these days." Steve smiles happily at me; I guess he's already looking forward to it. "Laura and Clint can be the judges."

"Agreed, and our subject?"

"Little Nate." If I remember correctly he doesn't like doing portraits. That gives me a distinct advantage. I do want to win!

"Bucky!" Steve whines and turns on the million volt stare.

It's not going to work though. "Come one, be a sport. Maybe Laura and Clint will like the drawings and we can present them as a gift. They're doing so much for us. It might be nice to do something for them in turn."

"You're right," Steve says, sighs, and gives in. "I'm going to lose though."

Exactly, but I'm not telling him that. Sometimes you need to be a bit sneaky where Steven Grant Rogers is concerned.

0000

We come across a lake and I can't control the shivers running down my spine. I really hate lakes, even in autumn when they're not covered in ice. I can't get the association out of my head.

"Wanna cool down a bit?"

I'm about to tell Steve that I'm not voluntarily getting into another lake in this lifetime, when I realize he's merely removing his boots and socks. He cuffs his pant legs and carefully wades into the shallow. Okay, fine, I might be able to deal with that. I follow his example and step into the water, but I'm not moving in further. I have no desire to experience another nasty flashback.

"That's where you draw the line?" Steve asks, probably realizing what's going on.

"I hate big and open waters. I hate lakes," I say passionately. Steve suddenly frowns and gives me a strange look. "What?"

"And yet you dove after me and pulled me from that river. It might not have been a lake – technically speaking – but I doubt that makes much of a difference."

"Ah, yeah, that…" I stare at the sky, since I get nervous from looking at the water. I really don't like standing here in the shallow.

"Buck?" Steve moves until he stands in front of me and then lifts my head by placing his fingers beneath my chin. I really don't want to make eye contact, but in the end I do. I mean, this is Steve. I can't lock him out. "What is it?" I whisper, much softer than earlier. Do we really have to discuss this now?

"Thanks for saving me. I would have drowned; we both know that. I was too weak to swim to the surface. Getting me out probably scared the hell out of you, but you went ahead and did it anyway."

That pretty much sums it up, so I don't comment. I have no idea what to add to that.

"Thanks," Steve says again and then leans in closer.

I don't expect him to kiss me, but I accept what he's giving me. Steve wraps his arms around me, pulls me against him, and deepens the kiss. I close my eyes in bliss, reminding myself that this is really happening. This isn't a dream or a hallucination. He is really kissing me. A moment later, he breaks off the kiss and pants slightly. I reckon he really liked kissing me.

0000

We make it back before sunset and I sit down on the swing. I like it out here. I like it better than Bucharest. The peace and quiet acts as a soothing balm to my damaged soul.

"Here, you might like something hot."

Clint steps onto the porch and hands me a mug. I easily identify Laura's special tea, and although I'm not experiencing a headache, I enjoy drinking it. Clint hands Steve his precious coffee and then sits down opposite us. "Did you enjoy yourselves out there?"

As I'm sipping from my tea, Steve answers instead. "Yeah, we did," Steve says and smiles happily. "It was great being out there. By the way, we need some drawing paper and pencils…"

Clint arches an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Buck recalled us taking art classes, so we're back to our old art competition. Laura and you can proclaim the winner."

I shake my head at his enthusiasm. "Calm down." But I get it. It's been ages since he got a chance to draw, even if it's just little Nate.

"I'll ask the kids to give you some," Clint says, clearly amused, but then he grows serious again.

Something is up. Something happened while we were gone and it isn't good. I wish he would just tell us. "Confess up," I say, hoping it will motivate him to share the bad news. Steve looks puzzled, but I shake my head at him. He'll catch on quickly enough. "What happened?"

"Nat called." Clint shifts slightly and gives us an uneasy look. "Someone tried to hack into Tony's computer system, which is definitely the stupidest thing you can do."

I look to Steve for additional information. Why is that a stupid thing to do?

"Tony is a genius. He knows everything there is to know about computers. You're not going to get away with trying to hack his system," Steve explains.

"Okay, got it." Now I want the rest of Clint's information.

"Tony allowed the guy in, hoping to get more information that way. He made our attacker think he was successful and allowed him to enter a search. The first search was about a Hydra base in Siberia. The second search was about the night Tony's parents died. But the odd thing is, our guy wasn't really interested in that. Those searches might have been a decoy. In secret, he kept searching for some serum Howard Stark must have had on him that night. That was his main prerogative."

It's starting to make sense now and I nod. "Maybe I do know what this is all about."

"We also got a name – Zemo. Tony didn't find much information online. Only that he served in the Sokovian military." Clint sighs and a pained expression appears on his face. "We assumed this was about you, Bucky, but now it looks like someone wants revenge for what happened in Sokovia."

"What happened in Sokovia? I never heard of the place… Steve?" I need more information if I want to understand what's happening.

"To cut a long story short; the Avengers wrecked the place, but only because a creature called Ultron wanted to blow it up. A lot of innocent people died that day."

"Pietro died that day," Clint whispers and he seems to be struggling.

I don't know this Pietro, but Clint's reaction tells me he cared about the guy. I have the feeling he acts like a father figure to a lot of people, me included.

"You said that you might know what this is about," Steve says curiously.

"Yeah, but I prefer to tell it only once." Telling it will be painful, for me and to other people. "Maybe we should stop the charade and get your guys together."

"What charade?" Clint asks worriedly.

"We know this can't last. This pretence that we're safe from the world." I'm a pessimist at heart. "We need to get this out in the open and maybe then you can catch this Zemo."

"What do you suggest?" Steve shifts towards me.

"A meeting – here, or in New York, or wherever. Stark should know the truth and you need to stop Zemo." I'm not looking forward to that confrontation, but I can't hide from this.

"I'll give Nat a call and tell them to show up for breakfast. Is that okay?" Clint suggests.

Breakfast? They want to wait that long? Well, it would give me one more evening in paradise, so who am I to disagree? "Works for me." Steve nods as well, so I guess it's settled. I'm going to face the ugly truth in the morning.

0000

"Dad told us to bring you this."

Cooper stands in front of me and presents me with paper and an array of pencils. "Thanks," I tell him and smile. I expect him to leave, but he remains standing there.

"What are you going to draw?" Cooper sits down on the floor and pats Frenchie, who wastes no time and rolls onto his back for another belly rub.

"Your little brother." I still find it hard to interact with the kids. I'm afraid to make a mistake, or to say the wrong thing. The last thing I want is to accidentally upset them.

"Can I watch?" Cooper gives me a hopeful look.

"Sure, no problem. Steve is going to draw your little brother too, so maybe you want to check out his drawing too." Maybe he can spy for me, tell me what approach Steve is taking to drawing the baby. Cooper nods and then settles down in such a way that he can watch me work. I look over at Nate, who's quite happy at the moment, since his mother is feeding him. He reaches for the bottle with those chubby hands and holds on tight.

"You're going to win," Steve says as he settles down opposite me, occupying the recliner and getting pen and paper in position. "I suck at portraits."

"No, you don't. You just don't like drawing portraits." Steve is talented; also at portraits, but he likes drawing landscapes, buildings and small objects. He always struggles to get the emotions right on people's faces.

"Here," Clint says and puts hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of me.

He then presents Steve with his favorite drink, coffee. It's a good thing caffeine doesn't affect Steve otherwise all that caffeine would give him a heart attack. For some reason Clint settles down next to me and watches me draw. It's a good thing that I feel confident at drawing and I don't get nervous because he's watching me. I switch my pencil to my left hand, because then I can draw from a better angle and wonder about Steve's surprised gasp. I look up at him and frown.

"I never realized before that you're ambidextrous."

"You didn't?" Well, to be honest, I wasn't in the past. Whatever Zola did to me, made me ambidextrous. I'm not complaining – not anymore – as it comes in handy. I concentrate on drawing little Nate and everything fades around me. I want to do this right. There's little I can do repay them for their kindness towards me. Maybe this drawing will show them how much I appreciate their help.

0000

"Done!" Steve announces.

He looks rather pleased, which worries me. Maybe Steve realized this isn't about competition, but about doing something in turn for Clint and Laura. Clint moved to the other couch some time ago and is now talking softly to Laura. I wonder about the best way to do this. "Did you sign it?"

"No, not yet. Maybe it's best not to put our names with it. That way they don't know who drew it."

"I had the same thought." I hand Steve my drawing and notice the way his eyes widen at catching sight of it. "Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"It's amazing," Steve whispers in awe. "As far as I'm concerned, you won already, not matter what the rest says."

That would be an easy victory – too easy. I watch Steve place our drawings on the dining table and compare them. Laura then gets to her feet and joins Steve. Clint follows at once and even Cooper jumps to his feet. Lila doesn't seem interested at first, but then joins the rest of her family.

"Guys, we need your opinions," Steve says as he points at the two drawings. "Which one do you like best?"

Apparently the drawing on the right is a favorite as everyone except for Lila points toward it. Lila favors the drawing on the left.

"We have a winner," Steve announces, grinning broadly.

I wish he would just announce the winner. I'm betting he won; it would explain the pleased grin.

"They like your drawing best, Buck!" Steve picks up both our drawings, sits down on the couch next to me and signs his. "You should sign it too."

"It's really good," Laura says as she settles down with some tea. "Steve's drawing is pretty good as well, but you captured that little grin Nate sometimes uses to wind us around his little finger."

I grow flustered, still unaccustomed to receiving praise like that. "The drawings are yours, of course. If you want them, that is. It's just our way of saying thanks for everything you're doing for us."

"We'll frame them and put them on the wall."

Clint sounds surprisingly serious. I never considered they might actually want to frame them. I check out Steve's drawing, and although it's detailed and resembles little Nate, the expression is off, just as I expected. I should feel guilty for cheating, but I don't.

0000

I stare at the midnight sky and try to remember the constellations I once knew by heart. It's a clear night with a moon which is almost full and shining brightly. I once heard a song called 'Last night on Earth' and for some reason I feel like it might actually be my last night on this planet. I'm melancholy and wish none of this was happening. If my suspicions turn out correct, I have to return to Siberia and face one of my worst nightmares. But I don't want to think about that yet. I still have a few hours left.

"Buck? Care to tell me what's going on in that thick skull of yours?"

Steve, who lies spooned behind me, breathes the words against my neck. His arms cradle me, creating a false sense of safety, but I'm willingly buying into the illusion for now. I want to savor every minute of it. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow," I admit reluctantly.

"You should get some sleep instead," Steve advices while his left hand dips beneath my T-shirt to stroke my abdomen. "Tomorrow might be exhausting."

He's probably right, but how am I supposed to relax, knowing what will probably happen tomorrow? I don't need to be psychic to predict we will head for Siberia soon. "There's no way I can sleep tonight."

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong, but I know that you only want to tell your story once, and I respect that, but you need to get some sleep."\

I'll do my best, but it's going to be challenging.

TBC

I had to remove the last 4 pages of the part as Steve thought of a different way to put Bucky to sleep... So if the end feels weird, you're right.

Also, I want to point something out. Writing a part takes about 5/6 hours to get it ready... So if you can spare 1 minute for a review that would be great.


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

Feeling nervous, I check my appearance in the mirror. I still don't like my reflection, but this time, it's a necessary evil. I'm about to face Stark and I don't want to across as weak. Maybe that's why I decided to wear a black long-sleeved shirt and matching pants. I always felt black was a protective color.

"Don't do this to yourself, you're only going to drive yourself mad with worry."

I turn around and face Steve, who's standing in the doorway and leaning against the wall. "That's easy for you to say. You didn't kill his parents."

"Neither did you. Hydra did."

What am I to say to that? Steve firmly believes that. "When will they arrive?"

"Clint thinks they'll be here in ten minutes. Come and have some coffee. No, strike that. You'd better have milk or tea. Caffeine isn't good for you right now."

I shrug. My choice of drink is the least of my concerns. I follow Steve downstairs and into the kitchen. Clint already set the breakfast table. I sit down and count the plates. "Just how many are you expecting?" I thought it would be just Romanoff and Stark!

"Yeah, you should know who's coming along," Clint says thoughtfully. "There's Nat and Tony, of course, but Sam and Nick also decided to tag along."

It will be four of them against me then. I don't want Steve to get involved. He's loyal to his team and I don't want to put him in a position where he has to choose.

"You should eat something. Porridge is always easy on the stomach."

Clint puts a bowl with porridge and fruit in front of me. He means well, but I can't possible eat right now. I'm content to sip my milk and wish this was already over and done with. There's some commotion at the front door and I hear Laura welcoming her guests. This is it then and I brace myself for the worst.

Romanoff is the first to make her entrance. The Black Widow dressed in black today too, how appropriate. Next there is Sam, who actually waves at Steve and moves to shake his hand. Steve simply bears it all and smiles benignly. Fury steps into the kitchen and his gaze instantly searches for Steve. Finding him sipping his coffee and joking with Sam seems to relax Fury, who leans against the counter and starts to study me. I'm keeping quiet though. Fury has a certain reputation, much like Pierce did. Merely thinking the name causes me to shiver.

Then Stark finally makes his appearance. He's all smiles and he greets Steve congenially, but I notice the tiny tremors that shake his hands. Stark is either nervous about this, or has a hard time controlling his rage.

"Steve, it's good to see you again. You worried me, moving off the grid the way you did," Stark says and shakes Steve's hand as a peace offering.

Steve gets to his feet and hugs Stark, looking relieved. "It's good to see you too, Tony. I knew you would handle things during my absence and it looks like you've been busy!" Steve sits down and gestures for Stark to take the chair next to him.

Which means Stark ends up sitting merely a few feet away from me. So far he ignored me, but my luck can't last. I know that.

"You have no idea," Stark comments and smiles at Steve. "And I had no idea just how evil Hydra was." He turns his head and…

He looks at me. I swallow nervously, wishing the earth would open and swallow me. I don't want to do this. "I'm sorry," I quickly apologize, although I fully realize that words mean nothing in this case. "I'm really sorry."

"Barnes," Stark says calmly, acknowledging my presence.

That is NOT the reaction I expect. Feeling confused, I stay quiet and let him decide where to take this. Suddenly Steve reaches for my left hand and takes hold of it, offering me his silent support. I can't reject him. I need the physical contact and the emotional support.

"Tony had a little revelation the other night." Romanoff accepts a cup of tea and smiles at Clint. "He finally exactly realized what Hydra's machine did to you. He was a little bit in denial, you see."

"Nat, please," Stark says and shakes his head repeatedly. "I think we moved passed that." Then, giving Steve a sneaky look, he adds, "She kicked my ass and Pepper backed her up. I was completely outnumbered."

I don't know what to make of that comment and decide to see what will happen next. So far, I'm just immensely relieved Stark hasn't killed me yet.

"Get to business, Tony, that's why we're here," Fury says impatiently.

I feel their eyes upon me and tell myself to stay where I am. It's only normal that they're curious, I expected that. But bearing their scrutiny is hard. I feel guilty as hell.

"Patience is a virtue," Stark tells Fury, who for some reason, backs down.

I didn't expect that. Apparently Stark is in charge for now.

"You said that you know what this is about," Clint reminds me. "So what do you think Zemo wants?"

So this is it. I can finally get this off my chest. I'm careful not to make eye contact with Stark; I stare at Clint instead. "Stark's parents weren't Hydra's real target that night. They ordered me to take them out so they could get their hands on your father's suitcase without drawing anyone's attention. When they died, the newspapers focused on the murder and not on the missing suitcase." Stark shifts on his chair and I know I can't lock him out forever.

"I liked your father a lot. Howard was a great guy. He actually improved my rifle, enabling me to shoot accurately from a greater distance. It saved Steve's ass several times."

"He said ass," Romanoff comments and tilts her head. "Rogers, aren't you going to lecture him on that? You know, tell him to watch his language?"

Her comment eases the tension in the room and I'm grateful for that.

"Not now," Steve comments and flips her the bird, which earns him a series of smiles.

"Bad to the bone," Sam remarks and chuckles.

"Let's get back to the story, kids, you can disrupt class later," Fury says and intervenes.

Stark looks remarkably composed, but I don't buy it. After all, I'm talking about his parents getting killed – by me.

"What was Hydra after then?" Stark leans in closer.

Stark sounds steady, something I don't expect. Maybe the guy has a better handle on his emotions than I thought. "Even back then Hydra had infiltrated Shield. One of their spies suggested Howard should work on improving Erskine's formula."

"You know about that?" Steve gives me a puzzled look.

"My memory isn't reliable, you know that. Things come and go, and lately, I've been remembering a lot." But I need to get back to the story. "Howard agreed and started to work on a serum, but it's wasn't Erskine's. It was Zola's." I hope no one interrupts me, because telling this is harder than I thought. It brings back certain memories, which I'd rather forget. "Your father thought he was helping out Shield, when in reality it was Hydra pulling his strings."

Stark draws in a deep breath. "I didn't know that. None of that is in those files."

"Hydra knows better than to commit certain crimes to files," I remind him, immensely grateful he's taking this so well. "They told him they wanted to see the results and that he should take the six packages of serum along with him. Howard didn't suspect any foul play, so he went along. Hydra made its move that night. They had to get rid of your father. Your mother…I didn't know she would accompany him that night. But Hydra's orders were very clear and left me with no way out. They told me that there could be no survivors." I reach for my drink and sip. Why are they so fucking quiet? Why aren't they yelling at me?

"What happened to the serum?" Stark rubs at his eyes, trying to rid himself of any tears trying to break through. He looks tired and defeated.

I feel bad for him. I wish I could undo the past, but I can't. His parents are dead and nothing can bring them back. "Hydra ordered me to return to base and I handed them over." Stark gives me a look that tells me he thinks that I'm finished, but that's not the case. "You need to know what they did."

"What do you mean?" Stark reaches for a glass of water Clint hands him and drinks eagerly.

"Normally, they would put me back in cryo after a successful mission, but this time they didn't. They still needed me. They selected their top agents and injected them with the serum. Later, they brought me in to test them."

"Are you saying that…" Fury stares at me in disbelief.

"I'm not the only Winter Soldier. There are six more of them, and trust me, I don't compare to them. Any of them can easily defeat me. I don't know how Howard did it, but that serum was a lot stronger than Zola's original formula. I escaped, but I was badly wounded."

Romanoff moves closer and leans against the table. "What did Hydra do? They couldn't afford them running loose."

"I don't know for sure. I can only guess, but I reckon they might have put them on ice too. They wouldn't kill them. They would search for ways to control them… Like they controlled me." Admitting that last bit is tough. Stark staples his fingers and studies me. I grow restless and squeeze Steve's hand to reassure myself that I have back up in case this goes bad.

"And all this happened in Siberia?" Stark asks to make sure.

"Yeah, the base is well equipped and well hidden." I tell myself to remain quiet; what happens next is not my call. They will decide for me.

"I guess that settles it," Fury says decisively. "We're heading for Siberia. We can't allow Zemo to use them against us. We need to take them out ASAP."

I hate being the voice of reason, but someone has to say it. "Don't you think Zemo is already there and waiting for you to show up? According to Clint this is personal. This is about revenge. What if he wants you there? What if he's prepared and ready to take you out?" Fury cocks his head and that eye of his focuses on me. Why didn't I keep quiet instead?

"That thought did cross my mind, Barnes, but I appreciate you reminding me. Stark, we need back up."

"Take as many men with you as you can," I advise, even though they might not be interested in my opinion. "I fought them. I couldn't defeat a single one of them. They're stronger and tougher than me. Don't underestimate them or you'll get killed."

Stark unexpectedly gets to his feet, uncovers something that resembles a phone, and heads into the living room. "You don't know if you'll end up just fighting Zemo or the six soldiers too. There is also the possibility of Zemo bringing in his own men too."

"No, he's a loner," Romanoff says. "I'm sure it's just him. He lost most of his men during Ultron's attack on Sokovia."

I feel like a heavy burden has been lifted from my shoulders. "When will you leave?" Steve suddenly tugs at my hand and I stare at him in surprise.

"You aren't coming along?"

"Stevie, I…" How do I explain this to him? And to make me feel even more miserable, Stark returns to his seat, and looks expectantly at me. "You don't want me there with you. Zemo might know of ways to turn me against you. It's not safe for you to take me with you."

"Are you talking about this?" Fury removes something from his leather coat and places it on the kitchen table.

I gasp in surprise as I recognize the ledger at once. "How did you get your hands on that?" Tremors course through me and I hate losing control like that, but that ledger – it reminds me of my personal hell.

"We found it in the hotel room. Zemo left it there, along with our dead psychologist," Romanoff explains.

They know what the ledger is all about, but Steve, and maybe Clint, don't. My bionic arm starts to shut down again, tightening its plates and locking my fingers in place.

"Hey," Clint whispers and moves in closer. "What's going on? You look like you're about to pass out."

Steve moves his chair closer and wraps an arm around me. He pulls me against him and holds me tight. "You have no idea what that is, do you?" I alternate between looking at Steve and Clint. I hope they're not going to make me explain it to them, because I can't.

"Whatever is wrong, you're safe with me, so calm down, Buck. I've got you." Steve rubs my back and then seeks out Fury's gaze. "What is this about? I need to know. What is that?" he says and looks at the ledger.

"Barnes started to fight back, did he tell you that?"

To my surprise it's Stark, and not Fury who addresses Steve. I don't care who tells him, as long as they won't make me tell him.

"Yeah, he did tell me. He talked back to Pierce, which got him another mind wipe."

I pick up on the aggressive tone and wonder what's wrong with Steve. He seldom takes that tone with anyone.

"Hydra decided he was becoming a risk, and they didn't want their gun to fight back, so they decided a new strategy was in order," Fury takes over, after shooting Stark a warning look. "They came up with ten words that would trigger the Winter Soldier. We watched some footage. You were able to withstand the pull of the first three words," Fury says, addressing me. "But after that, Hydra started to win. Once they reached the tenth word the Winter Soldier was tightly in control. What happened to you, Barnes? Did you know what was happening?"

I hate doing this. I lower my head and wish Steve would finally see me for the failure I really am. Instead, he keeps supporting me. "Yeah, I was aware all the time. I knew what was happening, I just couldn't stop it." The silence that suddenly feels up the room feels suffocating.

Unexpectedly Stark clears his throat and coughs. I don't know why, but I glance at him and feel sorry for the way he lost his parents. No child should experience such a loss. I already apologized, so what's there left for me to do? How can I possibly make amends?

"When I came across the footage of you killing my parents, I wanted to come after you and kill you in turn. Kill you slowly and make you suffer. I wanted you to feel what they went through…"

I cringe, but don't stop Stark. He has every reason to vent and I expected him to feel like that. Beside me, Steve moves and seems ready to intervene, but I shake my head at him and he remains quiet. Steve doesn't agree with me though and I know he wants to tell Stark off.

"Tony…" Romanoff whispers in an oddly cautious tone.

"Don't worry, Nat…" Stark pauses, draws in a deep breath and says, "Barnes, I'm not going to kill you. I'm not going to lay a single finger on you. It's safe for you to look at me. I'm NOT the boogeyman."

I raise my head and look at him. Stark must have been through hell these last few days, ever since finding out Hydra had his parents killed.

"Nat made me watch more footage and I know what they did to you. I know about the brainwashing and that they used that machine to wipe your mind. I don't blame you for my parents' death. I know it wasn't you. It was Hydra. But I also know now that you remember it all, and with remembrance probably comes a lot of guilt?"

I nod, but don't trust my voice, so I remain quiet.

"Just as I thought. You don't need my forgiveness, but in case you want it, you're forgiven. I know it wasn't you. Don't let Hydra win," Stark says in an oddly compassionate voice.

I involuntarily hold my breath at hearing that. I freeze the moment Start gets to his feet and sits on his heels next to me, looking me in the eye and making me shiver. He can't forgive me. It can't be that easy.

"I understand that you're worried about joining us in Siberia. Those ten words hang over your head like the sword of Damocles, but a pair of earplugs can easily fix that. If you can't hear the words, they can't affect you. I'm sure that Steve here wants you there with him."

"He's right." Steve smiles reassuringly at me, but then his gaze shifts toward Stark. "Thanks for understanding. Thank you."

"You have Nat and Pepper to thank for that. They didn't give me a single moment of rest until I watched every bit of that damn footage." Stark gets to his feet again and groans. "Damn, I'm getting too old for this."

"So when do we leave?" Sam asks, looking eager to get started.

"I advise against going in at night," I offer softly. "You want to see the welcoming committee instead of letting them run over you."

Fury nods approvingly. "It's only ten in the morning. How long will it take us to get to Siberia, Stark?"

"Using my plane? Two hours max."

"And our backup?"

"Already on the way, boss," Stark says and winks at Fury. "We're ready to take down Zemo."

I'm not sure I am ready too, but I don't voice my doubts. They're giving me a chance to watch Steve's back and I would be a fool not to take it.

0000

I end up sitting in the living room with Laura. Everyone else is busy preparing for our mission, but I can't be bothered. I know I'm heading into hell and I'll never feel ready for that.

"Bucky, do me a favor?"

Laura's voice pulls me from my thoughts, just in time for me to realize she's about to place little Nate into my arms. He's not crying or restless, but he looks very, very much awake. He's probably being a handful and Laura is getting tired. I welcome this moment of normalcy in my insane life. "Hello, Nate, being naughty?" He chirps and slides toward my bionic arm, going back to nagging it. I stare fondly at the little trouble maker.

Frenchie, who went into hiding the moment Stark and company arrived, now sneaks up to me and lies down, always keeping an eye out for strangers. He doesn't feel at ease and I get it.

"Clint tells me you're leaving for Siberia. Are you okay with that?"

I wonder how much she knows. Her tone indicates she knows that this is difficult for me. "I can't let Steve do this without back up."

Laura chuckles. "You mean without YOU watching his back. He has plenty of back up."

I guiltily return her smile and by doing so, I catch sight of our two drawings, hanging on the wall, above the baby's cradle. So they really did frame them.

"Am I interrupting anything? I just want to check on my godson."

Her godson? I didn't know that and suddenly I feel like I'm trespassing. I doubt she will kill me for holding Nate, but I should probably hand him to her. Romanoff walks toward the couch and sits down on the other end, leaving plenty of space between the two of us, just the way I like it. "I didn't know he's your godson. Here, you take him."

I want to hand him to her, when Nate launches his protest. Wailing loudly and holding on – as best as he can with those tiny, chubby hands –, he lets me know that he wants to stay put. Frenchie raises his head to find out what the fuss is all about, but once he realizes it's just Nate stating his displeasure, he settles down. "Sorry about that," I apologize and give Laura a dirty look because she's laughing instead of helping me.

"Well, he likes you," Romanoff says with quite some surprise to her voice. "I didn't know that."

"It's the bionic arm. It cools his gum, now that he is teething," I explain, hoping she won't take the baby's rejection personally.

"If it lessens his discomfort, you should hold him," she says, surprising me. "I knew you were discussing getting a dog, but I didn't know you already decided on one," she continues, addressing Laura. "What's his name?"

"His name is Frenchie and he belongs to Bucky. He's quite faithful. During the day he indulges the kids, but at night he always returns to your side, doesn't he?"

I nod and focus on Nate. I'm uncomfortable with the fact that they're focusing on me.

"A kid and a dog? I'm impressed. You've been busy, Barnes."

I don't comment on her remark. I don't trust Romanoff, but then again, I don't trust anyone besides Steve – and maybe Laura and Clint, but that's different.

"Actually," Laura says in a tone that instantly puts me on alert, "We're still looking for a godfather for little Nate. Would you do it, Bucky? Be his godfather?"

I can't believe she asked me that. I stare at her in shock, but then Nate gets tired of drooling on my arm and start climbing onto my shoulder. I rescue him and resettle him in his original position. "You shouldn't do that," I tell the little rascal. "You might fall." Suddenly I grow aware of the two women giving me almost identical looks. What did I do now?

"You don't have to answer right now. Just think about it. I believe you're just what Nate needs… You are okay with this, Tasha, aren't you?"

I doubt Laura knows about the animosity between Romanoff and me. I'm surprised Romanoff hasn't protested yet.

"Yes, I didn't think I would, but I'm fine with it. Nate seems to genuinely like you," Romanoff says in a puzzled tone. "Who would have thought that?"

"Did you see these drawings yet? Steve made this one." Laura hands Romanoff Steve's drawing and then removes mine from the wall. "And Bucky made this. It's amazing, don't you think? He caught Nate's expression perfectly."

Romanoff studies both drawings, but then focuses on mine. "You did this?" she asks.

"Yeah, Steve and I took art classes before things went to hell. He sucks at portraits though."

"I wouldn't say he sucks, but yours is better…" She stares at the drawings for a several minutes.

I have no idea what's going on with her and focus on Nate instead, rocking him and he squeaks happily.

"I might have to rethink my opinion of you, Barnes."

Romanoff's statement takes me by surprise and I glance at her. She looks right back at me. Something in her eyes as changed. It's almost like the hostility is gone, but that's just wishful thinking on my part.

0000

I open the backpack and uncover my old uniform. In a way, I had hoped I would never have to wear it again, but that isn't realistic. I slip into it, and shiver at how familiar it feels. It has been my second skin for a long time.

"Are you sure about that?" Steve steps into the room and gives me a quizzical look.

"Yeah, it's bullet and fire proof. It allows me to move and… it feels familiar in a way. I never had an issue with the uniform, only with the facemask." I check the straps and put on my boots. I'm readying myself for battle, but this time I will be fighting Zemo instead of serving Hydra. They no longer pull my strings. I do this because it's the right thing to do. No one is making me wear it and fight. This is MY decision.

"Be careful out there," Steve whispers and comes to a halt in front of me. "That place and you have history together."

"I worry about that too. What if I suffer a flashback and endanger the lot of you?"

"That's not what I meant," Steve clarifies as he rests the palm of his hands against either side of my face. "I don't want you to go through any kind of emotional pain when you don't have to. Just get the hell out of there if it becomes too much. No one will blame you for that. We talked it over just now and the team will watch your back, but you need to take care of yourself too, understood?"

"I'll try," I promise. It's the best I can do.

0000

When I get downstairs, I find Fury rallying everyone and steering them toward the plane, so I join the group and quietly walk in the back. Everybody seems ready for battle, but I know the inner doubts many of them must feel.

Once inside the plane I'm surprised to find that Stark hasn't suited up yet. Instead he's piloting the plane.

"Strap yourselves in. Hopefully it will be an uneventful flight. I'll be serving drinks and snacks in a few minutes, and whatever you do, don't use the toilet during take off!"

"Don't take him too seriously," Clint advises while he sits down next to me and straps himself in. "Tony is a good guy, but he has his quirks."

"We all do." Romanoff sits down opposite me and straps herself in too.

Sam, Fury, and Steve join us and get ready for takeoff too. It's six of us and I don't like that. We're up against six Winter Soldiers and Zemo, which means we're outnumbered. "Are we getting any back up?" I ask Steve.

"Yeah, Vision and Wanda will join us at the base in Siberia. That makes eight of us. Is that more to your liking?"

Steve knows me too well, damn it. "Not really, as we don't know who we're up against."

"Well, I could give Bruce a call, but I'm not sure that's the smart thing to do."

Stark's comment puzzles me. "Who's Banner and why isn't it a smart thing to do?"

"Trust me," Stark continues, "You don't want a big, green rage monster in a confined area like a Hydra base. He'll bring down the ceiling and then we're all dead."

"A big, green rage monster?" I look toward Steve for help.

"I'll explain," he says and grins. "Just listen….

0000

Ten minutes later, I understand why calling in the Hulk is a bad plan. Steve also showed me some newspaper footage. "I hope I'll never have to fight him." I doubt I would win.

"We all hope that." Sam chuckles. "I'd love to meet Banner, but I can do without meeting the Hulk for now."

"We are NOT calling in the Hulk, just drop it," Fury orders and checks his weapons.

Which makes me realize I don't have any. That sucks.

"Here, put these in…"

Stark hands me two earpieces and my nervousness makes an instant return. What if the plan fails and Zemo finds a way to activate the Winter Soldier?

"I know you have little reason to trust me, but I'm on your side, Barnes. Just put them in."

I do believe Stark wants to help, so I put them into my ears, making sure they sit firmly and won't move. "And how is that going to help? I can still hear everyone talking."

"You only think you do. There is a slight delay," Start explains. "Let me check."

I have a hard time letting him touch me, but I keep still and he checks the earpieces.

"Once we leave the plane, you'll hear an odd sound – it's called grey noise and it's very similar to white noise, but there are some differences. All you need to do is to get used to hearing it and don't worry about the rest. Should Zemo, or anyone else start saying that first word in Russian, that little gadget will react and block you from hearing it. I programmed them that way. By the way, can you lip read?"

I nod. "Yeah, I can."

"Then don't. I doubt lip reading those words will trigger a response, but we shouldn't try that."

"Sir, we're about to land in ten minutes."

"Thanks, Friday. Any sign of Wanda and Jarvis yet?"

"You shouldn't call him that," Steve chides Stark. "You know he doesn't know how to handle that."

I know I'm missing out on some information, but I'm sure Steve will fill me in if he finds it necessary. I'm grateful for the earpieces, but I still miss having my weapons.

"I almost forgot!" Fury suddenly reaches below his seat and removes something from there. "We had it modernized, so I hope that's fine."

The rifle he hands me looks very familiar. "Is that…?"

"We kind of loaned it from the exhibit, so be careful. We might have to return it one day." Fury grins.

Yes, it really is my old rifle. The one Howard had modified. Those modifications survived Shield's overhaul. "Thanks." I instantly feel better. I'm still not sure I can do this, but having my old rifle back surely tips the scales in my favor.

TBC

One more part to go and then we're done.


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

We touch down at a safe distance. Stark finally suits up and I follow the lot of them outside. Steve stays close and watches for signs that spell trouble, just as he promised.

A smaller plane, but very similar to ours, lands nearby. Stark mentioned calling in back up, but I don't have any additional information so far. The door opens and two figures leave the plane. The first one looks odd. He's tall, all green and red, and looks alien. He floats toward us and I notice an odd stone set in his brow.

"That's Vision. He's… peculiar, but easy to get along with," Steve tells me. "The girl's name is Wanda and I think the two of them are in love. I don't know if they told each other yet, so tread carefully, my friend."

Vision and Wanda make an odd couple, but who am I to judge? She walks up to me and Vision floats behind her like a protective shadow.

"You haven't met yet," Steve stays, stepping in. "Guys, meet Bucky. He's my best friend… and more," he adds, much to my surprise.

Vision merely nods, and manages an odd smile, which tells me he isn't used to smiling a lot.

"I'm the Vision," he introduces himself.

He doesn't extend his hand, so I reckon he doesn't like people touching him and I'm fine with that. Then the girls walks up to me and a pained look appears on her face. Her features contort and she reaches out, catching my left hand in hers. I want to pull away and break the contact, but Steve shakes his head. So I bear the touch and hope she'll snap out of whatever trance she's in. "Are you okay?" The expression in her eyes worries me.

"Yes, I am, but you're not. Your mind… it's broken… It's fractured in so many places. Where am I supposed to start? There's so much pain, so much guilt… You don't deserve that."

I'm getting serious worried now. "Steve, what's happening?" He never told me why she is on the team, what her special ability is. I'm tempted to remove my hand from her hold, but I don't want to injure her, so I keep still instead.

"Wanda's gift is of the mind," Vision says, replying in Steve's stead.

That doesn't help much. I already figured out that much myself. Steve isn't helping either by shrugging helplessly. Looks like it's up to me again. "Can I have my hand back?"

"I want to help, will you let me?"

"And how do you think you can help me?" I don't get her.

"You're in pain – mentally and emotionally. You're afraid you will suffer flashbacks and endanger the team. I can help you with that. I can put a protective cocoon in place that will keep the memories from rising during our mission."

"A protective cocoon?" I have no idea what she's talking about and I don't like the idea of anyone tampering with my mind ever again.

"You won't notice a thing. Please, let me help. I know it's only a band aid, metaphorically speaking, but I promise it will help for now. After we completed the mission, I can help you put your mind together again, if you'll let me. You don't have to be scared of me."

Steve nods encouragingly, but I don't trust her. I know it's probably my paranoia kicking in, but I don't know her, so why should I trust her?

"Wanda…" Clint walks up to her and buries her in a gentle embrace. "Thanks for joining us. Damn, it's good to see you again!"

The fact that Clint seems to trust her reassures me - a little.

"So what's going on here? You look so serious," Clint asks, while keeping an eye on me too.

"I want to help him," Wanda says and inclines her head toward me. "He carries so much pain and guilt that it cripples him. He shouldn't head into battle like that."

"I don't know if my opinion matters," Clint starts, addressing me, "but you can trust her. She won't let you down. If it helps, I will stay close while she works her magic on you."

"I'll stay too," Steve offers. Steve moves closer and wraps an arm around me. "She never let me down before. I trust her."

Maybe I need to have some faith in her. My mind is already a mess, so what damage can she possibly do? "I'm scared," I admit. She needs to know that should she decide to enter my mind.

"I'll be careful and gentle. You won't feel a thing."

A strange red light leaves her fingertips and moves into mine, traveling up my bionic arm and towards my head. A thin film of red spreads across my body, cocooning me. I'm starting to second guess my decision. Maybe this was stupid after all.

"Done," she announces a few seconds later. "Did it hurt?"

"No…" I frown, feeling confused. "That was it?"

"Yes," she confirms. "For the next few hours, your memories will stay where they are. If one of them tries to rise from your subconscious, the protective layer will stop it. You won't suffer any flashbacks during that time. Once the protection wears off, it's up to you to decide what to do next."

I guess it wasn't that bad. I didn't feel a thing.

"Ladies, are we ready to get started? We have some bad guy asses to kick!"

I startle at hearing Stark's voice in my ears. A quick look tells me the rest of the team is wearing an earpiece too. It only makes sense that they stay in contact like that. Stark could have told me though!

"We're ready. Let's do this." Steve lets go of my hand and tightly grips his shield.

This is it then. I'm about to walk back into my personal hell.

0000

Being back here brings back bad memories, but so far, I can control them. I know this place – know it intimately as it was my prison for many years. I stick close to Steve and Clint, and find comfort in the fact that Stark keeps babbling into my ear. I have no idea what he's going on about right now, and I don't care, as the very sound of his voice is soothing.

"Guys, I'm scanning for life forms and I'm picking up seven heartbeats. One going at a normal pace, but the other six, wow, they're going much too fast."

"It's them." I know this for sure. "What's the plan?" So far no one told me.

"Well, we go in and take them out. Pretty straight forward and simple, just the way I like it." Stark chuckles.

"We have no plan?" I realize, startled.

"We never have," Clint says reassuringly, sticking to my side. "Or maybe it's the same plan over and over again. Stark, Vision and Wilson are air born, so they are already scouting ahead. Steve and I will move in first. Nat, Wanda,

and you close ranks."

"I do not agree with that approach." Romanoff looks offended. "I want to fight on the front line too."

"We need you to clean up our mess, Romanoff, you know that. And I have the feeling this will get really ugly."

Stark's comment doesn't reassure me, but I do as I'm told and fall into step with the two women. They're a team; they worked together before so they know what works for them. I'm not going to mess that up.

0000

The moment I enter the building the earpieces start to produce this odd grey noise. It isn't distracting or annoying; it's just odd to hear it constantly. Steve walks in front of me and holds his shield protectively. I cover his back; just like in the old days. I'm good with that rifle and I am confident that I can even take out one of Hydra's super soldiers with a well-aimed shot.

So far, I haven't experienced any flashbacks. Maybe whatever this girl did is working; I really hope so. That way I can show the team I'm not completely useless.

"Everything ok, Barnes? You're awfully quiet."

Stark checking in from time to time however IS annoying. He starts babbling the moment I least expect it. "I'm fine," I whisper, having long figured out the earpieces double as a microphone. "Now please shut up, I need to concentrate."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a diva on our hands!" Stark continues.

"Stark, you heard the guy, and I agree, shut the fuck up!" Fury is losing his patience too.

I didn't expect him to be still working in the field. I assumed he would wait behind the lines and move in after we took out any threats, but here he is, making his way inside alongside us. I still wish though there were more of us. I hate going into a fight without knowing the enemy. "Go left," I tell Steve, who is leading the way. "We will probably find them in the great hall."

Steve nods and goes left. As we make our way through the abandoned corridors, I remember Hydra dragging me back to my cell, or prodding me forward. Thankfully none of these memories turn into violent flashbacks.

"You're going to be fine," Wanda says unexpectedly as he speeds up so she ends up walking next to me. "I'm keeping them at bay for now."

"Thanks." Knowing that it's unlikely I'll panic and endanger the team helps. Steve opens the door to the main hall and I swallow hard, feeling overwhelmed. I recall all those times they told me that I and the machine were one. That Hydra created me and that I should be grateful for that.

"Don't worry. We got your back," Clint says reassuringly and briefly rests his right hand on my shoulder. "You're not alone."

"I'm seeing six cryo tubes, but they are empty." Stark flies by and then lands close to us. "We're not alone though. I'm still picking up heartbeats."

"How many?" Clint scans his surroundings, removes an arrow, and readies himself for the attack that will happen shortly.

"Still seven." Stark looks about. "I don't like this. I feel like walking into a trap."

I tried to warn him, but I'm not voicing that sentiment. In times like these, accusing people of making mistakes doesn't help. All of a sudden, we're under attack. Bullets fly by and several attackers move in. I recognize the faces; I fought them in the past when Hydra wanted me to test their abilities. "It's them," I confirm when Fury gives me a curios look. "Just be careful!"

Right now the fact that we outnumber them works in our advantage. They're still formidable enemies and I don't underestimate them. Evaluating our situation, I realize Clint and Fury are at a distinct disadvantage. I trust the rest to take out their opponents, but those two… I run over to Fury first, and although it takes us several minutes, we manage to eliminate our opponent. "If you want them taken out of the game you'll have to kill them," I warn the team. "They'll recover and come back at you." Fury heeds my warning and shots one of them in the head. One down, five more to go.

"Thanks, now get going!"

Fury obviously realized I helped and I nod. I seek out Clint, who's having a hard time keeping one of them at bay. He's good with his arrows, I give him that, and fast too, but it's not enough to take out Hydra's super breed. The guy is moving in and cornering him, leaving Clint little maneuvering space and limiting his options. I shoot the guy in the back, but I know from previous fights that it's not enough to take him out. Clint reacts at once and shoots another arrow, which explodes right in front of our enemy's face.

"Steve!" I call out, trusting he knows why.

Steve knows exactly what to do and throws me his shield. I catch it and nearly decapitate our opponent, who drops to his knees. "Finish it," I tell Clint, and return the shield to Steve. He catches it and goes back to fighting his enemy. Clint doesn't let me down and shoots an arrow into the soldier's chest, piercing the heart. Two down, four more to go. I grow confident that we can take them as long as we work together. A quick look about tells me we might be in trouble. "Where is Stark?"

"I'm tracking down Zemo."

I didn't count on him answering me. "You need to come back and stick with the team! You're easy pickings when you're on your own!" Damn it, he's going to get us into trouble!

"I didn't know you cared, Barnes, I –"

Suddenly there's a lot of static and I'm sure Zemo took him down. "Steve…"

"Yeah, I know…" Steve runs towards me and looks at me. "We need to go after him."

I look at the rest of the team. They took out one more of Hydra's super soldiers and are down to fighting the last three of them. "Can you guys handle them?" I'm not leaving without their okay.

"Yeah, we got this," Sam replies as he swoops down. "We can take these guys. You two need to deal with Zemo and retrieve Tony."

"Got it, Sam. Buck, are you with me?"

"Always," I tell him. "If you think I'm letting you walk into a trap on your own, then you're fucking insane!"

"Guys, follow us the moment you can," Steve tells the rest of the team.

"Affirmative," Romanoff replies. "I don't expect this to last much longer. You guys go ahead and kick Tony's ass for flying solo!"

That is all Steve needs to hear. "Where do we go from here, Buck?"

"The inner chamber…" It holds Hydra's machine and several other gadgets Hydra was so damned proud of. We reach the massive door shutting off the inner sanctuary. I don't waste any time and tighten my bionic arm. I punch as hard as I can. At first, nothing happens, then the material implodes. "Follow me!" I move into the room and instantly freeze. For some reason Zemo powered up the machine. Seeing it causes me to freeze briefly. That's my personal hell, waiting for me right there.

It is moving its arms and I remember their painful embrace only too well. Once it is locked in position, there's nothing you can do. It will wipe your mind and erase your soul, little by little each time it gets its greedy hands on you.

I swallow hard at realizing that the chair is occupied. How the hell did Stark get into that position? His suit is busted open and malfunctioning. Small electric charges run along the metal surface and his face is exposed. The restraints hold him in place and the machine is still powering up.

Stark looks panicked and tries to loosen those restrains, but I know from personal experience that resistance is futile. Romanoff said she had made Stark watch footage of me having my mind wiped. He KNOWS then what is about to happen. He knows the amount of pain involved in that process. I can't let that happen to him. I have to free him. I have to get him away from that fucking machine! He looks at me and mouths, 'Help me.' But he has to hang in there a little longer!

"Ah, there you are. You kept me waiting."

A man, who must be Zemo, moves in front of the machine. He grins at us and the expression in his eyes tells me he has nothing left to lose, which makes him extremely dangerous. This guy will stop at nothing and he's willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. He's willing to die in order to get his revenge. Suddenly Steve's voice echoes through the chamber.

"Zemo, the game is over. You lost. Let Stark go."

If Steve thinks he can talk some sense into the guy, he is mistaken. Zemo won't stop until we're dead.

"Well, I must admit that you upset my plans… So I had to improvise. I'm confident that my new plan will work though. Stark and you, Captain America, won't leave this place alive. It's small payback for what you did in Sokovia. You took my wife and child from me! You killed them!" His rage shows as he spits those words. "I won't stop until the two of you are dead!"

I nod at Stark, letting him know that I've got this. Hopefully he can stay calm.

"My original plan consisted of showing Stark here the footage of your best friend killing his parents, but…" Zemo looks at Stark and realizes he is awake. "Ah, so you decided to wake up after all. You didn't like being zapped, did you? Taking you down was embarrassingly easy."

If looks could kill Zemo would be utterly dead now, but Stark is limited to words and looks only as the machine holds him down.

"That's not going to work, Zemo. I already know that Hydra had my parents killed," Stark grunts, while fighting the restrains.

"Such a pity. I was looking forward to making you fight each other. Stark would go after the Winter Soldier for revenge and trying to kill him. Our dear Captain America would do everything within his power to stop you. The two of you would have killed each other. It would have made for the sweetest kind of revenge, but, I'm not giving up."

At exactly that moment I realize his plans. He means to wipe Stark so he can turn him against Steve and I'm the wild card. Zemo knows about those ten words. He knows how to trigger the Winter Soldier. He will turn me against the two of them.

"First thing first. Soldier, I need you to listen carefully!"

The guy is stupid enough to actually warn me what is going to happen! As predicted, the earpieces acts when Zemo speaks the first word and the grey noise amplifies, so I can't hear a thing Zemo says. I don't look at him either, making sure I don't accidentally catch the words by lip reading. "Steve, I'll take care of Stark. You need to take out Zemo!"

"Understood!" Steve doesn't waste any time and pounces at our adversary.

Simultaneously I head for Stark. I'm guessing Zemo is still listing those ten words, judging by the grey noise ringing in my ears. I wonder when he'll realize his plan isn't working.

For now I focus on the machine. The arms rotate and then start their descend, ready to grip Stark's head and to begin the procedure. No way am I going to let that happen to him! I smash the consoles with my left fist and then move onto the arm closest to me, ripping if off and throwing it far away from me. The machine short circuits and all movement stops. The power is gone and it no longer poses a threat. Now I need to get Stark out of the chair. An alarm echoes through the chamber, red lights flash warningly, but I don't care. I need to get Stark away from that contraption.

I don't waste any time and tear the restrains to pieces. The machine releases its prisoner and I pull Stark, who's damn wobbly, to his feet. I support him and check him over. He doesn't seem injured, just shaken. "Can you function?" I know I probably phrased that wrong, but being here brings back the way my handlers addressed me. Stark gives me a relieved look and nods.

"Parts of my suit are down for the moment, but I'm not defenseless. Thanks for getting me out of there."

I'm under the impression that Stark wants to add more, but he remains quiet instead and just stares at the no longer functioning machine. I feel some pride at having ripped it apart. No one is going to suffer because of that hellish machine ever again!

I look for Steve and find he has subdued Zemo, who looks resigned and stopped resisting. I understand the guy's motives, I would be pissed off too after losing my men and family, but I would never go to such lengths to extract some revenge. Steve nods and I smile at him. I'm relieved everything worked out like this. Stark sways and I steady him. "You'll be fine," I say, trying to reassure him. "It's just the shock." I would never have forgiven myself if Zemo had succeeded in wiping his mind.

Stark manages a weak smile. "Thanks for helping me out. I really didn't want to have my mind wiped. I owe you."

I feel awkward and shrug. "You would have helped me too." At least, I hope so. "Come on, we need to check on the rest of the team." Hopefully Stark is letting the matter go. I really don't want to discuss that machine.

We move back into the great hall. I'm relieved to see that the rest of the team took out the Winter Soldiers. Maybe I shouldn't feel relieved at finding them dead, but at least this way they no longer present a danger.

"Any injuries on our side?" Steve pulls Zemo along and quickly inspects his team members.

"My wings needs to be checked, but as far as I can tell, we're fine," Sam says and grins. "It was easier than I thought."

It was easy because we outnumbered them. I turn toward Steve. "What do we do now?" I nod toward Zemo, who looks resigned. I don't trust the guy though.

"We're taking Zemo with us. He needs to stand trial and his testimony will clear your name, Barnes," Fury says instead.

I didn't even think of that. Clearing my name from what? I did commit those murders. It makes me realize that I'm not ready yet to face the world. What I really want is to return to Clint's farm and to be part of a family again, no matter for how long – or short – it will last. Clint must have noticed my look because he grins at me.

"I'm heading home to Laura. You guys wanna tag along?"

"Can we?" That decision isn't up to me, I know that. It's Steve's and Fury's too. Steve's smile is somewhat reassuring, but I need Fury's okay too.

"That's fine with me." Fury nods and takes hold of Zemo, pushing him toward Romanoff so he has no way out. He's locked in-between them. "Take some time off, Barnes. I'll send word once the world is ready to meet you. Now move it, Zemo!"

Fury and Romanoff march Zemo toward the exit. Sam follows at a short distance, keeping a close eye on the prisoner. Wanda suddenly walks towards me and comes to a halt in front of me.

"My offer stands," she says. "Whenever you're ready. No pressure."

"Thanks, I'll think it over." I still find it hard to believe that I let her manipulate my mind earlier. I didn't think I would trust her enough for that, but I did. "I'll probably give you a call… in a few days." Not yet. I need time to get used to the idea of letting her in.

"That's fine with me. Take good care of yourself." Wanda follows Vision toward the exit.

I sigh deeply, truly realizing the threat is over. We managed to take out Zemo and the Winter Soldiers with no casualties on our side. I'm about to tell Clint to please take us home, when I realize I'm being watched – closely. Turning around I find myself staring at Stark. I had forgotten he was still around. What does he want from me?

"I need to say some things before I can leave."

I have no idea what this is about, so I stay quiet and let him talk. It's the safest way to proceed.

"Thanks for getting me out of that machine," Stark starts.

"You already said that. You don't need to repeat it." I have no idea how to interact with him. "You don't need to thank me." I would have freed anyone from that machine.

"Yeah, but still. The thing is, I know what that thing is capable of. I watched Hydra use it on you. I know what it does… I know what Zemo could have done to me if he had managed to use it on me."

I shrug. "No one deserves to go through that hell. Trust me, I know. I wouldn't even wish it on Zemo. It hurts like hell." I realize only too well that Wanda's manipulation is the sole reason why I'm capable of discussing this calmly. I wish he would stop addressing it. There's no reason to thank me. After killing his parents, getting him out of that machine was the least I could do.

"Still, thanks, I know coming here can't have been easy on."

Looking about, I find that I'm calm and rational, things I'm not supposed to be. "Whatever Wanda did worked… I have no idea how I will deal with this once her manipulation wears off."

"You'll find a way. You've got Steve…" Stark grins and extends his hand. "Let's shake on it."

I have no idea what I'm supposed to shake on, but I accept. Stark's grin widens, which worries me.

"Thanks for joining the Avengers, Barnes! You make a nice addition to the team. I'll start working on your new suit and I want a closer look at that arm! I'm sure I can improve it!"

I stare at him in shock. I never agreed to joining Steve's team!

"Do close your mouth, dear," Stark quips and releases my hand. "I'll see you in a couple of days! Rogers, you know your way around New York! Make sure the two of you check in with me!"

I watch Stark head for the exit, looking mighty pleased with himself and even humming on his way out. "What happened just now?" I look toward Steve for an answer.

"Tony welcomed you to the Avengers." Steve winks at me. "Be honest, would you let me head into battle without watching my back? You would drive yourself mad. The only reason you are here right now is because you want to keep me safe and to take out any bullies that pick on me. You would have joined the Avengers sooner or later."

"I never knew it was an option. I didn't think they would want me." I'm a former assassin and still slightly amnesic.

"Stop worrying about it," Stark says through the earpieces. "It's too late to reconsider now. We shook on it, remember?"

I'm not sure Stark will still feel like that once he realizes just how damaged I am, but for now, I'll let him get away with it.

"Are you guys coming along? I really want to go home."

"Sure, Clint, we're on our way," Steve confirms. He walks over to me, takes my left hand in his, and pulls me along. "Let's go home. Little Nate is probably throwing a tantrum now that you're not around."

His comment makes me smile. And the best thing is that he's probably dead right about that.

0000

"Are you okay? You're really quiet."

I appreciate Steve's concern, but I have a lot to process. I never thought I would find the courage to do the things I just did. "I'm fine," I reassure him. "Just sorting out some things." Steve's fingers remain tightly curled around mine. It's almost like he's afraid to let go. "I'm not going to disappear on you."

"I know that, but I worry about you."

I know he does. I lift his hand, guide it my lips, and press a kiss onto it. Clint whistles and chuckles, whereas Steve grows flustered. I want to show him how much I love him – not just today, but for the rest of my life.

0000

The hatch opens and Clint is the first out of the plane, which isn't surprising, considering Laura and the kids are waiting for him to join them. Clint runs towards them, hugs Laura tight, ruffles Cooper's hair, and presses a kiss onto his daughter's head. All that is missing from that domestic scene is little Nate.

"I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get out of this suit." It served me well during battle, but now I want to get rid of it.

"Go ahead, I feel the same way." Steve waves at Clint as we pass them by. "We're going to freshen up!"

"Don't take too long," Laura says, "I saved you guys some dinner!"

"We'll be right back," I promise as I don't want to disappoint her.

0000

I strip quickly, drop the uniform in a corner of the room, and grab a quick shower. After dressing in a comfortable T-shirt and sweatpants I feel human again. Steve also ditched his uniform and is wearing a shirt and jeans. He looks at ease and smiles at me. "What are you drawing?" I'm curious, so I move over to the bed and sit down next to him, trying to catch a glimpse of his sketch.

"You."

Why the hell is he drawing me? I watch his fingers move across the paper and have a hard time recognizing my facial features. "I don't look like that. You're turning a blind eye to my flaws."

"No, I'm not. This is how I see you, Buck."

"Hum, in that case you should let someone check your eyesight. Maybe you need glasses." Steve huffs and puffs dramatically and places his drawing aside. "We should join them downstairs. Laura will be disappointed if we don't."

"Be honest with me. You just want to check on Nate."

"Maybe." I lean in closer and kiss his brow. "Thanks for staying at my side and watching out for me."

"Likewise."

Steve raises his right hand and buries his fingers in my hair. "Don't start anything now, we don't have time for it," I warn him.

"Later?"

"Later," I agree and chuckle at him. I'm in no hurry; we have time.

0000

Laura places little Nate in my arms and sits down. She looks tired. "Let me guess, he cried all day?"

"Yes, his gum hurts because of the teeth coming through. When you hold him, he turns into a little angel."

"He just wants to maul my arm, you see?" And yes, Nate is back to nibbling on my arm. I never thought I would ever be part of such domestic bliss. We just had dinner, Clint is cuddling up to his wife, and Steve is a bit grumpy because I'm not paying him any attention at the moment. He'll get over it though.

"Did you give my suggestion any thought yet?"

Laura's question peeks Steve's interest, who gives me a puzzled look. I guess I have to explain. "She wants me to become Nate's godfather." That's all I'm going to say about it. It's absurd and Steve will get that.

"That's a great idea!"

I give Steve the evil eye. "You can't be serious!"

"But I am! Think about it! Nate loves and you… Admit it, the first thing on your mind when hurrying back here was Nate."

Well, I can't deny that. I still don't think making me his godfather is a good idea though.

"You need to try, Buck. You really do."

Steve never gives up, damn it. "We'll see, maybe."

"That's a yes," Steve translates happily.

I sigh. Steve is right. I want this. I want to do this. "Okay, I'll do it, but don't complain that I'm doing a bad job! You wanted me to do this!"

"We won't complain," Laura says and nods approvingly. "Don't worry. You'll do great."

If only I felt like that too.

0000

"And why exactly are you sucking up to me? I don't have any treats on me." Frenchie puts his head on my knee and is giving me THAT look. "I'm too tired to go for a walk, and if you want food, go seek out the kids." Frenchie whines and I give in. "Sorry, it's just… It's frustrating." I have a hard time adjusting to the new life I'm leading.

"Here, have some milk."

Steve sits down and the swing moves beneath his weight. He pats Frenchie, who then tries to climb onto the swing as well. "I don't think so," I tell him in a stern voice. He grumbles, but then settles down and makes himself comfortable on the porch.

I sip from my milk and cuddle up to Steve, who in turn wraps an arm around me. "I never thought things would turn out this well. If you hadn't tracked me down in Bucharest, I would still be there, living in fear of discovery." These days I'm part of the Avengers, whether I want to or not, and have Steve's everlasting and unconditional support.

"I keep my promises," Steve whispers, "I told you that I'd be there till the end of the line. I meant it."

His unwavering love for me made this possible. He never gave up, never questioned me, and in the end, it was all worth it. "Till the end," I promise. I'll never desert him.

The end


End file.
